Seasons
by shywr1ter
Summary: Tony said he was taking Tali to Israel and Paris to find answers. Sometimes, answers aren't enough. This continues their story after May, 2016. This story WILL be completed, but updating will be slow unless someone wants to assume all my adult responsibilities.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just trying to make sense of where they left us with the last episode.

 **NOTE: This story will move from present to past to present at various times. Watch for the dates heading each section.**

 **SEASONS**

 _October 27, 2016_

The wind had been gusting off and on, all day, bringing the promise of colder weather ahead, and with it, the comfortable sounds of his home's creaks and murmurs as it stood up to the growling wind and chill outside. In the quiet of his basement, Gibbs stood over some plans he'd sketched out long ago, a brittle sheet pulled from an stack of old technical drawings he had kept over the years, and drew out his well worn metal measuring tape to make some preliminary markings on the cedar plank before him. The soft yellow light overhead cast familiar shadows just outside its reach, but did little to keep the evening's chill at bay.

 _Another creak._ But one that was not just the settling of an old house. One that was more than the natural sound of wood and time, in this house or elsewhere. One so fleeting it could slip in and out of the night as if no one had passed at all.

Breath held, Gibbs continued to work methodically as if nothing was amiss. His first thought was too unlikely and too impossible to be true, and at the moment, he was too far from his gun to have its comfort for anything else.

 _Another sound. Nearer, and more ... overt. More human; the slightest brush of clothing against clothing._ All pretense gone now, Gibbs straightened, turning slowly, as he would to avoid spooking a skittish animal. His voice was low and gentle, carrying no evidence of the surprise and relief and question he felt as he spoke.

"Ziva."

The figure who now wavered on the last step, in shadow, seemed haunted, thinner than the last time he'd seen her. Smaller. _Back from the dead yet again?_ Even in the dusky light he could see her try a small smile, falter. After another moment, she nodded, clearly trying to maintain her composure. "Gibbs," she said softly. Her voice was like the rustle of dry leaves on pavement.

A thousand questions lay between them, but the longer he looked at her, the less insistent they became as he sensed that the woman before him had suffered even more, both physically and mentally, than she had before, and he fought to keep his immediate instinct toward protective rage under control. _She's here, under her own power_ , he reminded himself. _She's here for at least this moment. She's not dead, and not dead to us, at least for this moment. Find out why she is here._

"We've missed you, Ziver."

The eyes, huge in her gaunt face, flickered in pain and appreciation, and he thought he saw her lip tremble slightly. Again, she paused a moment before she nodded. "And I ... all of you."

"You know ... we all thought you'd died. Did you know? Your family's farmhouse." He began slowly, hoping it was a safe place to start, wanting her to know right away she still had family _here_ who cared about her. "It was on the news. Orli came herself to confirm it." He watched carefully for a response to his words, listened closely to her breathing, for any movement from her.

She was motionless, silent, for long moments. Finally, she nodded yet again, her expression so flat that he knew it took all of her effort to hide whatever the truth was behind it all.

The investigator in him saw all the signs. He knew she was fragile, knew that pressing her now could ruin his chance to learn what had happened, and what had brought her back here to the U.S., to the District, to _him._ For all her apparent reticence, she seemed to want to be there, to see him, and because of it his gut was certain that this was likely his one chance to get her to open up to him about what had happened to bring her to this point. But he was just as certain that a misstep could cause her to break, and she might never again want – might never again be _able_ – to acknowledge everything that had happened, whatever had beaten her like this. The team leader in him, the paternal figure in his teams' lives, wanted to ask so much more – about her _child_ , about her life, about her push-pull relationship with DiNozzo, about ...

 _DiNozzo._

He forced down the next flood of questions he had about Tony – if he'd found her, if they'd spoken, if he even knew she were alive, if she knew he knew about Tali – and focused on the woman he once knew to be as strong as anyone he'd ever known, clearly pushed time and time again to the breaking point, and now teetering on oblivion. He pulled from his memory all he knew about talking someone down from a ledge, from harming themselves, and softened his tone, just enough that if she saw through him, it wouldn't set her off. After all – she seemed to be here for something, and had positively responded to the fact that she had been missed.

"Then you know I'm surprised to see you," he went on, "but mostly, relieved that you're alive." He paused, and watched for a reaction. He thought he saw her expression soften slightly, as a moment of sadness crossed her features. On a whim, Gibbs put down the tape measure he'd been holding since she came in and turned to pick up a couple glass jars, tossing the screws from inside the second one and watching her as he blew out the dust.

He was rewarded with a sudden intake of breath, almost like a rusty laugh, as Ziva's eyes misted over in recognition.

He slowly poured a couple fingers of Maker' Mark in each jar and came toward her slowly, lifting one of them toward her. He saw a small tremor in her hand as she took it from him. Before she could lift it toward her lips, Gibbs raised his jar and tapped the rim gently against hers. Stooping slightly to look her in the eye and hold her gaze, he said softly, "I'm glad you're here."

She met his glance and held it too, clearly battling competing thoughts in response. But the sense Gibbs had initially that she might be falling into oblivion – or even on the brink of running away again – was lessened, and when she finally smiled a little, and nodded, he relaxed. Knocking back his drink, he knew what he needed to do, for the moment. He might not like waiting, but some things just took time. And as Ziva stood at the foot of his steps, still wrapped in her coat and turning the jar of bourbon in her fingers, Gibbs stepped back to the cedar board before him, picked up the measuring tape, and leaned back to finish his markings.

* * *

 _June 23, 2016_

From the moment Tony had heard that Ziva's family home had been attacked – _destroyed_ – no matter how much he was able to hide on the outside, inside, he was an adrenaline-fueled mass of panic and worry and _hurry_ , feeling every mile between him and the olive groves mocking him, demanding that he drop everything and run to Israel, without ticket or bags or plan. He couldn't process beyond the need to get his own eyes on the ground, because if Ziva had already survived being blown up – twice – _that he knew of_ – and survived her own personal hell from Saleem and his men, she would have found a way out of this, too. Early intel hadn't even documented her whereabouts at the time. He would go and find her, protocol or safety be damned.

So his first frenzied hours spun by as he worked to get to Israel, his emotional resources too drained to rationally process the blow when not one, but two, of his closest friends came to break it to him. Both of them – Tim, Abby – apparently so certain that Ziva was gone this time, and so determined to limit his pain, their words left no hope. He barely paused to ask them how they knew, how they had confirmed it was Ziva, who provided the information and what they had done to confirm the information for themselves beyond the initial inevitable dead ends. Instead, Tony found himself lost, adrift, once again grieving for her loss and for what had never quite become what could have been between them, if they had just learned to throw down those final walls and be open and honest with each other...

And before he could right himself and start thinking again, Orli swept in, and in tones low and soothing and so very sorry, her detail and her official presence as always making her larger than life, she delivered the one -two punch that changed him forever: first, confirming Ziva's death, then, confirming she had a child. _His_ child. From that moment, he heard without hearing Orli's insistent tones that Ziva was most assuredly gone, but most assuredly the child's mother and most assuredly keeping his child a secret from him, intentionally, even while was most assuredly her father...

And after all that – he'd run. Not away, this time, but _toward_ responsibility. Toward this new life. He was dazed and confused and a little insane with everything he had learned, but he was also smitten by this tiny stranger who so favored her mother already, yet shared his grin and the twinkle in his eyes. Within hours he was as certain Tali was his, as Orli promised; he didn't need Abby's subtle note confirming the DNA match to tell him so.

But he still wasn't himself. He had been in a controlled panic, and fled with Tali to Israel and Paris, and when he finally broke down, at least it was in a relatively safe place, so that Tali was exposed only to her father alternately sobbing and trying to rip the hotel pillows in order not to throw things across the room and frighten the tiny child.

 _He'd lost her again. And he'd been played ... hadn't he?_

By whom, he wasn't sure, but the answers – and probably the culprits – had to be in Israel. Looking back, several weeks after learning the terrible/wonderful news, and calmed down enough to look again at all the materials they had gathered at the time, Tony wondered at the temporary insanity that had overtaken him back then. So many red flags and things that just felt wrong, so many gaps in logic, all missed in his pain and shock of Ziva's death and Tali's existence.

 _Where was his team in all this? Where was Gibbs?_ Why had they just accepted what Mossad had fed them at the time? Had they, or did they follow up to confirm the reports? Sure, a good bit of the intel was convincing, and would have fooled most, but it wasn't like them to just take Mossad at face value. It wasn't like _Gibbs._ But then, over the past year, maybe more, the Gibbs he thought he knew hadn't been around much at all. His own senses had taken a pounding with the news; no reason to think that Gibbs' hadn't as well.

Tony had told everyone he was going to Israel for some answers. His first stop there had been almost pointless, he was still overwhelmed in grief and shock. Now it was time to channel his inner-former-Gibbs and find himself again in the process, and see if he could determine, to his satisfaction, what the truth was _this_ time. It turned out that his first key lay in an intelligence briefing document he remembered being provided by ONI when they first learned of Ziva's involvement in events, suddenly seeing a line that had eluded him before – and which he did not recall ever hearing anyone mention.

"She rejoined Mossad and became an agent again."

He gasped, cursing under his breath at the words he could not believe.

" _She rejoined Mossad and became an agent again."_

The information and its implications brought him out of his chair and on his feet, pacing the room. _So she hadn't put away the badge? Couldn't? Did, but went back? Or was all that a bunch of horseshit? And if it was,_ _ **whose**_ _lies were they? Ziva's, for saying she wanted to walk away from that life, or Mossad's, for putting it out there, if it wasn't true? Or letting it slip if it was?_

He'd been so sure of her sincerity; he'd seen her pain. Sure, just a matter of days – hours, really – before then, she'd invited him to come see her, then flipped to wanting him anywhere else _but_ there. Did she again flip from having to 'find herself' to going back to Mossad without a fight? Or worse, voluntarily? And where and how did that all square with her having Tali?

She might be many things, and she might have even played him, he found himself finally admitting, but he could not ever imagine Ziva abandoning her child – _could she?_ There was no doubt Tali was biologically hers, and biologically his. Abby's results were firm.

But her DNA was _all_ he knew for certain.

If he'd had his wits about him at the time, he would have found too many gaps to be just swallow everything whole as he had – like the Director of Mossad, coming over _personally_ to deliver a child to him, Ziva's child ... _his_ child ... just like that? Everyone's unquestioning trust in Mossad's word that Ziva had been a casualty? Orli handing over the grandchild of Eli David to him, an American she might now grudgingly respect but still an American, and one whom none of them at Mossad particularly liked ... all, just like that? Especially when Orli knew damn well he had no idea Tali existed, and easily could have kept her in Israel, with him none the wiser. And the random things included in Tali's go-bag. Why would _those_ particular things be packed and with Tali to have escaped the blast? And had they even proven that the two of them had been living at the farmhouse when it went up?

Orli may be many things, but no one accused her of being altruistic. Or particularly caring of anything beyond what was best for Mossad. In retrospect it all sounded lame, sloppy, as if Orli couldn't be bothered to put together a decent story...

 _... or had to plan one at the last minute?_

He turned to look at his daughter, sleeping peacefully in the crib provided by the hotel. He'd learned his lesson quickly, when he was first overcome with grief, that Tali might not know English yet, or even much Hebrew, but she read his moods like a book and her radar was sharp – and his grief hit her hard, scared her and made her first shy away from him, then, when he worked to gain her trust again, overly clingy at times.

He had a responsibility to his child – and to Ziva – to make an honest attempt to discover the truth. And he had a responsibility to protect Tali from being hurt any more than she had been already, with her mother taken from her, one way or another. And he vowed to move heaven and earth not to let Tali see him grieving or angry or frustrated again. He would investigate this case as he would have any others before him, keep his child safe and happy, and keep his grieving and raging silent, and away from her.

* * *

 _October 27, 2016_

Gibbs had been working for a good twenty minutes before Ziva finally sat on the step and sipped at her bourbon. She was beginning to relax in his presence, in the familiarity of his basement. He felt a small victory and began to hope for more. He could wait.

Another thirty minutes passed. He heard her draw a breath, as if to speak, and then heard her do so again, again without more.

It would come. He was glad he'd thought to give her a drink. Not only the familiarity of the ritual, but the tiny lessening of her inhibitions could only help her if she had come to him to talk.

"Gibbs..." She began. He hid his relief that the dam had finally begun to crumble, but already worried about her tone. He remembered moments, after Saleem, when she sounded broken, bereft. Even then it was not quite like this. "Since I left ... since I spoke to you, on the phone..."

The pause became long enough he felt he needed to prod. "Mmm-hmm."

"S... so much..." She trailed off. "My plans..." He stole a glance to find her staring into her now-empty jar, mind clearly racing ahead of her words. "Other things took precedence. I... I was not able to stay away from Tel Aviv for long." She glanced up and looked at him long enough that he felt her eyes on him, and knew she was waiting for him. Stopping for the moment to turn and look at her, Gibbs couldn't tell what she wanted from him as she spoke. "I ... have a daughter, Gibbs. Tali. T...Tony's daughter."

He nodded slowly, at her words. "I know."

"I know, I ..." she swallowed, her eyes suddenly glittering again in the dim light, and for the first time since her arrival she showed more emotion, the threads of her despair unraveling. "He is so angry with me, Gibbs," she whispered.

 _Tony? He didn't know who else she could mean._

"I don't know if he can ever..." her words trailed, leaving the sense of their speaker's torment in the air.

"You've talked to Tony?" He tried not to change his slow, soft tone, but this was news, and he immediately needed more – about his agent, their daughter, what the hell had happened and was happening to them all. When he last saw DiNozzo, he would not have assumed he would be angry at finding her, just the opposite. But then, their lives had all been upended in the last few years. He would not have assumed that Tony would not have kept in touch over the months since he'd left, either. But basics before details. At her nod, he forced himself to take a breath before trying, "what about Tali?"

Her eyes darted up to his, a question there, and Gibbs wasn't sure what she was asking of him. But she nodded yet again.

When she said nothing else, Gibbs pressed, feeling an uncomfortable worry flicker past. "Where are they, Ziva?"

Her troubled eyes settled slightly, as if suddenly understanding his confusion. "They are here. _Here,_ in the District, I mean; in Virginia. They went to Jimmy and Breena's. Jimmy offered to let Tali stay there tonight, to get some sleep, while Tony figured out what to do about a place to stay..."

Gibbs felt an involuntary pang that DiNozzo would turn to Jimmy for shelter and a place to stay, when he hadn't even let him know he was in town.

"He could have come here. All of you could come here, you know that..."

"He trusts Jimmy," she murmured, looking away, her own emotional turmoil letting her miss the effect her words had on her former boss.

 _And he doesn't trust me..._

"When did you get here?" Gibbs forced his own reactions away and tried for information, now that Ziva was talking. "When did he get here?"

"A couple hours ago."

"Both of you?"

"Yes." After a moment, she looked up to see him weighing her words, and shook her head, unable to meet his eyes suddenly and finding her voice uncooperative. "But we ... are not ... we have not ... " She took a breath and tried again. "The only thing decided for now is to come here, to the U.S., for Tali's sake." She swallowed, hard. "We agreed she needs to be in a safe place, in _one_ place, for a time ... around people she can trust. Whom _we_ can trust."

He had to ask at least this much. "If Tali is staying with Palmer – and Tony is looking for a place to stay ..." He watched her closely. "What about you, Ziver?"

The question seemed to wound her, a sense of hopelessness welling up in her eyes. The exhaustion she radiated was clearly more than physical, and Gibbs was left wondering what the hell DiNozzo had done to add to her pain.

But it would wait, and he would do his damnedest not to throw fuel on whatever fire this was. "C'mon. There's some of Ducky's tea, upstairs," he pressed, the interrogation over for the moment. Looking at his former agent, the complex, unpredictable and inexplicable woman who had once again beaten the odds, it struck him again, suddenly – she was _alive._ And no matter what else what going on or had happened ... she was, and always would be, one of his... He stepped closer to look down at her in concern, his brows knitting as she dropped her eyes, unable to meet his...

"Ziva," he urged, reaching a hand, gently, toward her elbow, to cup it softly, as she began to crumple into herself, even if only slightly. She would not let herself go, but stood trembling from the will to keep herself together. She let him circle her shoulders carefully and pull her to him slightly, not resisting, but not giving in either. Frowning, unsure what it all meant, he kissed the top of her head tenderly and said. "Tea. C'mon."

And followed her as she made her way, as silent as a ghost, up his stairs and into his kitchen.

 **To be continued.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Many, many thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites. To those who reviewed as guests, I'm sorry I couldn't respond personally but very much appreciate your leaving your thoughts about the story.

I'm pleased that so many readers are willing to give this a chance – though I've happily written mostly fluffy TIVA, the writers gave each of these characters a difficult emotional childhood, and continued the blows in their adult lives. (More on that in an A/N following this chapter). I hope you stay with this story; if you do, just remember – as Gibbs sees here – that just because one character _thinks_ something is so, it doesn't mean they're right.

 **SEASONS**

 _June 23, 2016_

For the first couple weeks of their stay in Paris, Tony simply wandered, Tali with him always, and they stopped in parks and playgrounds, eating from fresh summer food stalls and farmers' markets, as they got to know each other. During the day, Tony let his mind wander; out of all he'd learned, he let his thoughts settle into a more rational assessment of fact versus guess, logic versus irrational. He found them a small apartment in a pleasant neighborhood, over a small cafe, managing to negotiate a decent price when the cafe owner learned he was a former cop.

So in his little flat in Paris – not far from the hotel where they stayed their first few days, the same one where he and Ziva had stayed so many lifetimes ago – he played with his daughter, sang her to sleep, and did what he could to objectively lay out the facts as he knew them, decide what it meant ... and do what he could to learn the truth.

More than anything – something just didn't sit right from the behavior he could track for Ziva, since he left her behind on the tarmac. From her tearful admissions of the pain she had caused others in her life and her fervent vow to start over, to her rejoining Mossad – somewhere in there, having their child, apparently raising her, then maybe even leaving her behind – it didn't make sense. All he could see of Ziva was the emotional wreckage left in the wake of her father's murder, apparently on the heels of his own misdeeds, including his assassination of a man on U.S. soil; her disturbing reaction to learning that her childhood friend was in love with Ari when he died. Ziva had always been cool, controlled, in charge. If she had gone on her road of self discovery in that way, he wouldn't have worried a moment for her. But she hadn't – she wasn't herself and she wasn't thinking clearly, even back then.

And on top of all that – to be pregnant? To be a mother? Ziva would protect her child with her last breath – wouldn't she? How could she allow herself to be separated from their beautiful child if she was still alive?

 _...was there any chance at all she did not know that_ Tali _was alive?_

He considered and quickly rejected a plot by Mossad to tell her Tali died in childbirth and hide her away somewhere. Tali had warmed to her photo, not only identifying her as her mother, but responding in familiarity, not just a rote repeating of a label she had been taught. But if Ziva thought that Tali had died in the blast...? Why would Mossad arrange that, if they had? And where was Ziva now if that was the case? The briefing document saying she rejoined Mossad predated the attack; did that matter?

Tony frowned. He needed an informant, and the only people he knew in Israel were connected to Mossad or state security in some way. Even if Ziva trusted them, he didn't know how far _he_ could. But ... there in France? Now that might be a different story, if he could locate one of the few people who might be willing to lend him a hand in finding her – if Ziva was still alive to be found.

Tony had always been a good investigator, and part of that skill was knowing what he could do, on his own, and when he needed help. He had done all he could, in the circumstances, and, having spent more than a decade relying on the special training and talents of his co-workers, knew there was more out there than he'd uncovered.

It wasn't quite 5:00 a.m. back in Washington, but those he knew wouldn't be asleep too much longer if they weren't up already. Picking up his new, disposable phone with the local SIM card and number no one there knew yet, he sent a brief text, without preamble. After more than a decade ... nothing more was needed.

* * *

 _October 27, 2016_

Gibbs settled in the chair across the table from Ziva and watched as she held the mug of tea he'd handed her, warming both hands on the ceramic surface and breathing in the scent of the brewing leaves. "Got some roast beef, if you want a sandwich. Or some peanut butter." Before she responded, he asked, quietly, "when did you eat last?"

"They had a meal on the plane ... and a snack, before we landed..."

"Plane food isn't eating, Ziver," he drawled, equal measures of humor and concern in his voice. "Got a couple cans of soup, too."

She shook her head, staring into her steaming cup. "I am fine, Gibbs. But thank you."

"You're not fine. But you're safe now." He looked to her again, hoping for contact. At his words, Ziva's eyes raised to him, and he saw that she could begin to believe he was right. But he also knew that there was much more troubling her than only their safety. With her starting to let down her guard a little, and to meet his eyes, Gibbs decided to push a little. Taking a long swallow of the coffee he'd poured for himself, he let the silence settle her a moment longer, then asked, again quietly, "DiNozzo know you're here?"

At first he worried it was too much – at the question, Ziva's brow drew down, her shoulders hunching a little as she unconsciously drew in on herself for the moment. But it was only the moment, and though she glanced away again, she finally shook her head. "I do not know. We ... went our separate ways at the airport. Tony – to the Palmers, with Tali, and to follow a couple leads on a place to live."

When she said nothing more, Gibbs urged, "and you?"

"To ... let him do that on his own," she admitted in a small voice. "I told him I would reopen a couple bank accounts I had left here, and I _did_ that. But ..." She hesitated, looking for the right words to explain her actions. "I may be a citizen, Gibbs, but this is coming _home_ , for Tony, something he needs and wants, more than he realizes. He has been ... transient ... over the past months, and it is my fault ... or at least because of me, or things set in motion because of things involving me. He still has so much _new_ to get used to, and all at once ... again, because of me." She drew a shaky breath. "He does not know yet what he thinks of it all."

Gibbs frowned. "You mean Tali?"

She nodded, vaguely, then realized they might not be on the same wavelength. "Oh – but not Tali, herself – he is so good with her, Gibbs. I have never seen him as he is with her." Ziva's eyes rippled as emotions got the best of her. "Just ... all the rest of it. _Everything_." The numbed pain he saw cross her face made him think of the day she sat in interrogation, telling him all that had happened when she had gone to Somalia on her father's orders – something he'd learned had broken her heart and her spirit, and which she did her damnedest to suppress, so no one would know how deep her wounds ran.

As he had then, he asked her to face it all by speaking it aloud. "And now that you're all here? What now?"

She stared at the table, a sound of hopelessness in her next words. "It has been only 72 hours since we located each other, Gibbs. We haven't exactly spoken of about much of anything yet, other than our shared belief that Tali needs and deserves stability in her life. Even before Orli brought her to Tony, her life had been ... disrupted ... more than once. It was not a hard choice where the most stable place would be."

At that, Gibbs frowned. What he'd seen in DiNozzo, what he'd learned Tony had been through in those days, he knew the man had been decimated at the news he'd lost Ziva _again_ , and beaten by the thought that she had purposefully kept his daughter a secret from him. Gibbs couldn't begin to imagine the baggage the two brought to this party. He wanted to help, but had to wonder if the two could survive each other. "Look – you need a place, you can always bunk here," he pressed. "You, or all of you. You know that..."

She smiled. "Thank you, Gibbs. I hope ... that as we..."

But she was interrupted as the front door suddenly opened, and a concerned looking DiNozzo stepped inside, pausing only for a moment at the door. As his eyes lit on Ziva, who had glanced up only for a small moment before looking away, again seeming to battle for control of her responses, Tony closed the door behind him, slowly. Crossing the room toward the table where they sat, watching Ziva closely, Tony seemed to relax as he drew a deep breath. He finally glanced over to his former boss. "Hey, Bo... Gibbs," he said, awkwardly, and after a moment, added, softly, looking at Ziva, "hey."

She looked at him, tipping her head in greeting. "Tony."

"I ... uh..." He looked to her, and said, "they didn't work out. Neither place is available anymore." As he paused, possibly waiting for her to react, Gibbs could see that he, too, was exhausted with more than simply a transatlantic flight.

"I am sorry," she murmured.

He shrugged and pulled out a chair to sit heavily, almost as if Gibbs wasn't there. "Maybe in the morning I can make some calls."

"I was just telling Ziva," Gibbs volunteered, knowing he had no clue what he was getting into, but meaning his offer all the more now. "I have room. You know that."

The man who turned to look at him was not the same man who left NCIS, shattered, with a toddler in tow and a need to retrace her mother's steps ... he was not the man on his team for a decade and a half, not the man who had been on his ass all year and whom he'd pushed away since his return to work, knowing that if he let DiNozzo see too closely now he'd be made, all his weaknesses exposed. The man seated before him had the look of one adrift, like so many of their victims who had lost family, like those who struggled to process their return.

Gibbs wondered again what he was getting into, offering them his place, but things clearly were all kinds of wrong between them, critically so. Ziva had said that Tony was "so angry" with her, yet with DiNozzo in front of him, he was certain she had completely misread him to think that. Gibbs had seen DiNozzo angry about things important to him, and this wasn't it. The man before him, before _them_ , was uncertain, hurt, but focused on what lay ahead, and if Gibbs were a betting man, he would've bet the farm that his focus was on doing the right thing for their daughter. Regardless of where either of them were now, Tali had to be their first concern, and amid whatever else was happening between the two, Ziva's words that they were here in the U.S. to give their daughter safety and structure gave Gibbs hope.

If he could help the child and her parents find some balance as they righted themselves to face the next 72 hours, then the next, then the next, he would do all he could, including offer his home to them. He wondered what the hell would happen with these two, but he saw that no matter what might happen to the two as a couple, they had their hearts and minds in the right place, maybe borne of their own lives, with fathers more absent than not and mothers who died before their time. They would set their own lives aside to do the right thing for their daughter.

And that, alone, made their efforts worthy of all the help he could offer.

* * *

 _September 2, 2016_

It had been a long flight, but Tim had little problem sleeping much of the time away after the long week. They were in between cases, but he had been doing some of his own research at home, and the work that would normally take just a few minutes on the secure system at NCIS had stretched into hours, primarily for the circuitous routes and layers of encryption he needed to add to his searches, making it unlikely he'd be caught, and even less likely any snooping would be traced back to him.

Pretty much as he'd been doing for Ziva when they hunted Bodnar. This time, though ... he was looking for Ziva.

He wanted answers. He _needed_ answers. The more he thought about Mossad's story, the more skeptical he was. He understood why Tony hadn't pressed; he was distraught with the bombing and Ziva's reported death as it was, and thrown even further off kilter by dramatic Orli's appearance with Ziva's daughter. _Their_ daughter. And, if he were honest with himself, the united front he and Abby had presented, emphasizing for the moment that Ziva's death was a certainty, was Oscar worthy – because they both knew if Tony thought there was the slightest chance that she was still alive, he would go completely off the rails and tear Israel apart looking for her. _Again._ The way Tim had figured it – and Abby agreed – Tony could kill them later, when things settled down and they could talk with him about what they knew ... and what they didn't. The main thing was that Tony would be _alive_ to kill them.

And so he and Abby had been firm, no hesitation and no question, when they delivered Mossad's pronouncement to Tony. And probably for all those reasons, he didn't question it, as the news hit him, hard. And in those early hours and days after the bombing – first, word that Ziva died, quickly followed by Orli and Tali's appearance, quickly followed by Tony's departure – Tim didn't have much chance to worry about Mossad's story. He had a new role to take on with the team, as well as stepping up to fill the void in a team one man short and one probie still way too green.

Neither he nor Abby had seen Tony's departure coming; they thought he would get past the initial news and get busy as a team looking behind what they'd been fed to see if it held up. But as the days, then weeks, went by, and neither Abby nor Gibbs mentioned it again, Tim became more and more troubled that they did not. Abby, he understood; she was mourning the loss of not one, but two, people she loved, and was trying to make sense of Tali's sudden existence and Ziva's apparent willingness to hide Tali from Tony and all of them. Tim just wasn't ready to derail her from all that processing into a search for Ziva's fate - frankly, he didn't think she'd be ready to do her usual objective analysis until she had a handle on everything else. But Gibbs?

Tim mulled it all over again as he funneled out of the plane and followed the line of his fellow passengers into the customs hall, waiting as the long line snaked slowly forward. He was at a loss when it came to Gibbs' reaction – or _lack_ of reaction – in all this. Hell, he'd been at a loss all year when it came to the Boss. He trusted the Boss with his life, couldn't imagine being any other way. But he usually could figure out where Gibbs was coming from, and even if he didn't always agree with how the Boss dealt with everything, he knew he had his reasons and they made some sense in the Boss's head.

But ever since Luke, and Gibbs being shot... Tim understood the Boss had been close to death but it wasn't the first time. Was it the trust he put in Luke and near-death at Luke's hand? Was it that much worse, because Luke was a kid? If Gibbs had worried about being forced out of the field, that clearly didn't happen, and they were going on with things as if the Boss had never been injured. Gibbs had been personally affected by other cases, with victims they couldn't help or cases that went south, but this had lasted far longer. And the weird effects – the whole short-term wardrobe adjustment and hair growth, to start – and he had been even more closed mouthed and terse with them all. But with Tony...

Tim closed his eyes and felt another rumble of sadness about it all. What a team. Gibbs was never forthcoming with compliments or positives, yet his agents had so craved his approval that even a grunted syllable or two was like getting a promotion. Since he'd been back, Gibbs was distant, more surly and grudging than ever. He knew Tony had tried to press Gibbs for answers, tried to bring back the Boss they all knew. Yet as time went on, and Gibbs seemed to be a bit more himself, he started shutting Tony out – grounding him without apparent reason for one case or another, only partnering with him rarely, being cool and distant to his lead agent – and without any reason for it, for all that Tim could see. If it had been anyone else, Tim would think it was an effort to see just what it took to break the senior field agent – but he couldn't think of his Boss in those terms. Still, it disturbed McGee more than he liked that Gibbs barely acknowledged his friend's departure, muttering something about "life goes on" before demanding that they get back to work...

Tim finally made it to the front of the line and offered his passport to the officer in the booth, answering the obligatory questions about how long he would be there and if it was business or pleasure. _Not sure if it's either_ , he thought to himself as he managed to smile his response.

Stepping through to the other side, Tim tucked away his passport and pulled out his phone to check the address Tony had given him. Glancing up at the informational signs, in English as well as French so he didn't have to rely on his smattering of the language yet, Tim walked forward and out into the terminal to look for an exit and a cab.

"McGee!"

Tim stopped in surprise and turned to see Tony walking toward him, looking more tired than usual, but his smile genuine. Any greeting Tim would have had for his friend otherwise was forgotten as he took in the man who had been with him in the field and the bullpen, side by side, for over a decade: he looked younger and older all at once, in comfortable jeans and a pullover, hair askew and free of the usual special-agent-coif gel – and a sort of backpack carrier on his back bearing a beaming, wide-eyed toddler.

Tim was jostled out of his reaction by Tony's approach, and the men met in a brotherly hug that somehow had been overlooked in Tony's rush to head overseas. "How are you doin,' Probie?" Tony's voice was soft, sincere. "Gibbs riding your posterior 24/7 now?"

"Pretty much." He gathered his thoughts, pulling his reaction together at finding yet another shift in the man he'd known for so long. "Hi, Tali," he smiled at the child, meeting the chubby fingers extending his way, putting off for another few moments any meaningful response to his friend. "I didn't expect you to come out to pick me up."

"I couldn't leave you to the local cab drivers." He looked at Tim's carryall, but asked anyway, knowing the answer. "This all?" At Tim's nod, he turned and tipped his head not outside, but toward another hall in the airport. "Let's go, then." As they walked, Tony reached into a pocket and handed Tim a small card. "I don't have a car, but around here they're really not needed. That's a 3 day pass for the Metro and all the area transportation. Don't lose it," he grinned, as Tim followed as Tony navigated the halls into the metro terminal in the airport, and wondered already at how different Tony's life had become.

Standing on the platform, waiting for the next train into the city, Tim tried for a light tone. "So how are you, Tony? You didn't really say much in your email." That was an understatement – after weeks of silence, no word from him at all, Tim had been the first to get any sort of communication from the now-former special agent, and that was the cryptic statement, "if you can come visit for a few days, I'll book you a flight. Just let me know when."

Of course he agreed to come. He didn't even know where Tony was when he replied, but this was _Tony_ , and besides, he was itching for information about his friend. So now, at 7:42 a.m. local time, he was standing in a Paris metro station with Tony and Tali and not all that sure why he was there, but he suspected that Tony had started having the same questions about what they'd been told by Mossad.

"You look tired," Tim offered. "You two alright?"

Tony's smile in recognition was soft. "We're getting there," he acknowledged, without any denial or excuses, and he tipped his face back toward his passenger. "Aren't we alright, Taliwag?"

As if on cue, Tali beamed, leaned forward, and grabbed her father's nose to give it a squeeze – and Tony obligingly honked. At Tim's sudden snort of surprise, Tony looked at him and shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "You'd be surprised how much longer a two year old will willingly ride in this contraption if she gets a random 'honk' out of it."

Tim relaxed into a chuckle, nodding. "I can see that." He looked at the pair for another moment, then tried again. "I assume you had a bit more on your mind if it was worth buying me a ticket. I do have a phone, you know."

"And yet here you are," Tony's smile lifted higher, but he showed his absolute sincerity when he added, "I'm glad you came, Tim. I need your help."

 _TBC_

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope to show these characters as they might be in real life: their hurts and passions at this point are so immediate, and so built up over the years, that each of them must view the world through that filter. So when Ziva says Tony is "so angry" with her – is he really? Here's my spin: he's been hurt by her 'rejection' in Israel a couple years back, and has been grappling with that; he now has to reconcile not only fatherhood, but her hiding it from him, and he also learns she did _not_ give up the badge as planned. At core, he still loves her, but he's battered and scarred from his interactions with her. So when she appears, he is withdrawn  & guarded, feeling played, worried that she may have abandoned Tali, and may run again. And when Ziva finds him to be cool and his trust gone – no matter how he sounds or what he says, if he is not the usual bouncy, warm Tony, she knows something's wrong. So - she _assumes_ that he's _angry._ He has a lot going on in his head - but anger isn't in the mix. _  
_

These two have a lot of work ahead. They need to learn all the facts instead of assuming, to let down their guards and really listen, to see each individual as who they are, not the mask they wear or a copy of the others in their lives who let them down. Even though this story is not fluffy, Uncle Willie said it best over 400 years ago in his comedy about love and misunderstanding, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ :

 _Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_

 _Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend_

 _More than cool reason ever comprehends._

Act V, scene 1

And said even more simply, in the same play:

 _Lord, what fools these mortals be!_

Act III, Scene 2


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Just a reminder to note the dates heading each section, as we're moving between past to present. And a thanks to those of you who stayed with this story. Further A/N below

 **SEASONS**

 _September 2, 2016_

When the three of them emerged from the Metro onto the bustling Paris street, Tim was suddenly was struck that it looked nothing like Hollywood's version of the city. Granted, they were in a more mixed, shop-and-residential area, but it had a bustle and charm of its own – and was much more engaging than anything Hollywood would provide.

And _then_ it struck him that he'd just arrived in _Paris_ – his first time there – but his thoughts were anywhere but sightseeing. Glancing at his former partner, he had a hunch that Paris hadn't really dawned on Tony, either.

 _When did everything go so wrong?_

He nodded at the right places when Tony spoke to him and Tali alternately in short, absent thoughts, almost failing to follow when Tony suddenly ducked into a storefront grocery. He shook off his brooding and hustled in behind Tali, who was clearly enjoying the ride and babbling happily at him and Tony and anyone who happened to be nearby.

Tony grabbed a small basket and headed toward the produce, grabbing several fruits and vegetables with a practiced hand. "Kinda early for jetlag, McSpacey." Tim looked up to see Tony considering him, a sadness there that took Tim by surprise. "Rough week?"

Tim thought about denying it, but he found himself standing next to the one person in the world who understood more about his job – and his late night searches – than anyone else could. He shrugged. "The usual," he said truthfully.

Tony snorted a soft chuckle in response. "So you haven't slept for three days. I figured." Tony led the way from produce to bakery goods, to the meat counter, with a couple stops in between. "We've got some things here to get a decent breakfast in you," he nodded toward his basket, "or... lunch or ... whatever you're in the mood for. And then you can either get some sleep, or come to the park with Tali and me for some serious sandbox time."

Still coming to terms with this new Tony and his realization he was following his former partner around as he was grocery shopping – in _Paris_ – Tim just nodded with a weary smile and followed the pair into the check out line, where they both surprised Tim by chatting easily in French with the cashier, Tony paying the woman then reaching up to a zippered pocket on Tali's carrier to pull out a couple cloth grocery bags.

Taking the change and the cheery _merciauvoire_ the woman tossed him as if it was all one word, Tony moved to the end of the short conveyor and started loading his purchases into the bags he'd brought, narrating his purchases to Tali as he loaded them, all with a familiarity and ease as if he did this every day.

 _Damn. He_ _ **does**_ , Tim suddenly remembered.

But at the same moment, Tony looked up at McGee as if something suddenly occurred to him, too. "Geez, Tim – I didn't ask you if there's something you'd like to have around to eat or drink; I was so focused on what I needed to make dinner. I don't usually cook for adults," he apologized. "Anything you want to get before we go?"

McGee shook his head again, reminding himself to focus on this "case" for which Tony wanted his help, just as he would on the job – as he _should_ for his friend. Mourning all the recent changes should be put aside for now.

"I'm good," he insisted, reaching for one of the bags. "Here, I can get this."

Tony murmured his thanks, and gestured back into the store, his tone again apologetic. "We need anything, we're just around the corner, so can always come back." They set off to a sudden delighted squeal from Tony's passenger. The proud father laughed, "she knows where she is now. Is that normal, McGee? I don't think I knew where I was until I got out of high school."

McGee chuckled. "You really want me to answer?" The rueful grin he saw in return bore traces of the Tony he knew, and, finding more solid ground now, Tim offered, "I'm glad you called, if you think I can help." He glanced around the neighborhood and assumed that Tony was satisfied with its security and safety. "You've been looking for more information all this time?"

Tony seemed to hesitate slightly before he responded, but finally nodded. "Yeah. More slowly than I'd like, without the old access, but ... yeah." He said quietly, clearly remembering efforts that had not been as fruitful as they would have been at NCIS – and, Tim reflected, probably why he now found himself on a Paris street instead of back there himself.

They walked only a few yards before turning off the street and into a pleasant, flower-lined breezeway beside a café and its warm, delicious aromas. Tony pulled out a key and opened the door into a narrow stairway up over the café to yet another door.

"Home sweet home," he said, leading Tim upstairs and opening the second entry. "Not fancy, but okay for us for now."

Tim looked around at the tidy, almost spartan apartment as Tony took the groceries Tim carried and, with his, put them on the kitchen counter and stepped back to shift the carrier frame off his shoulders. For the first time Tali made little fussing noises as she kicked her feet slightly. "Okay, okay," Tony said with a knowing humor, "I'm hurrying!" He glanced up at Tim and laughed, "at times she has her mother's impatience." Proving him right, as soon as Tali was lifted from the carrier and her feet met the floor, she was off running to the couch where a lop-eared, stuffed bunny waited for her. With a joyful babble, she pulled the bunny to her and scrambled up on the couch, chattering alternately to them and to the bunny in nonsense syllables punctuated now and then with English or Hebrew or French.

"Well, I never thought I'd see it – but fatherhood looks good on you." Tim admitted. "You're a natural."

"Hardly 'natural,'" Tony snorted his honest surprise. "I had no clue how to even start." He came around to where Tim stood in the front room, watching Tali as she played with her bunny. "Jimmy has been a lifesaver. Breena, too. I wish we'd hung around a little longer for more of the Gremlin's wisdom, but he loaded me up with websites and books that he says helped them out, and he's been great. We've skyped a lot. Those first few weeks I think we emailed every day," Tony sighed. "I didn't have the first idea what to do with a kid. But Jimmy thinks I can do it." He looked at his daughter, expression softening as he watched her playing happily with her bunny. "Maybe he'll get me through the learning curve and I won't mess her up too badly."

"From what I see – you're doing everything right."

Tony looked up at Tim with something like gratitude, then moved on past him to clap him on the shoulder. "C'mon," he said, leading him down the short hallway, past a small room with a crib and possibly smaller bathroom, and on to the last room in the place. " – your bedroom."

"You mean _your_ bedroom," Tim chided. "Tony, I can't take your bed."

"Sure you can. I've turned into Gibbs; I sleep on the couch more than half the time anyhow." This time his smile didn't reach his eyes. "You look dead on your feet. You want to catch some sleep? Or have something to eat? If I'm going to steal your holiday weekend, at least I can give you the same hots and a cot you'd get in lockup."

Tim wasn't really as _tired_ as he looked, he knew; he was just – what? Disoriented? Adrift? Losing one former partner to an explosion and this partner to his grief? Becoming SFA to a surlier than ever Gibbs, and not in a way he'd want to get the job? McGee didn't want sleep; he wanted his old life back, his old team. His old partner.

 _His old_ _ **partners**_ _._

But Tony was waiting for his response, and he dropped his duffle on the floor by the bed. "I actually got some sleep on the plane. Maybe walking around a little will do the trick. Besides," he grinned, "sandbox time in Paris sounds pretty amazing right now."

Tony's eyes narrowed, as if he didn't quite believe McGee – or was looking for the ulterior motive.

"Really," Tim urged, and admitted, sincerely now, "I'd like to catch up – and I'd like to get to know the daughter of my best friends." He saw Tony's expression shift at the emotional catch in his voice, and he went on, "and ... I figure that if there is any concern at all about anyone listening ... then sitting in a park will let us be sure we have that under control."

Tony's eyes glittered at his words, expression almost as shattered as it was when Tim and Abby told him that it was Ziva's body in the bombed out farmhouse. After a few moments, he managed to say, softly, "I really miss you, Tim. I really appreciate you coming."

And in the next moment, the two were hugging like the brothers they were, for all that had happened so recently – for the news that Ziva was irretrievably lost to them, for their parting in the bullpen those months ago, for their growing hope that Ziva's story might yet again be more than they knew, for their shared grief that the team and partnerships and life they knew was gone now, too – they held on for several moments, knowing that, despite the geographic distance they faced now, they would always share, between them, more than most ever would.

And, at the moment, they each needed that more than sleep.

* * *

 _October 27, 2016_

"You look beat, DiNozzo. You both do."

Some things never change, and from habit, Tony straightened a bit and smiled disarmingly to hide his exhaustion from Gibbs. "Well, not all of us can commandeer a cushy military transport at the drop of a hat, Boss. We had to fly commercial."

Ziva stood, slowly, and offered, "thank you, Gibbs, but I do not think we should leave Tali for so long. She has ..." She hesitated, then went on as smoothly as she could, "she has had a confusing few months."

But Tony spoke to her, almost cautiously. "Look – if Gibbs is willing ... let's get Tali, and you and she can stay here for the night. I suspect that you two may want to catch up."

"Where you gonna stay, Tony?" Gibbs' gut was murmuring with the tension in the air. "Ziva said that you two just got back in touch a couple days ago."

"And Tali will wonder where you are," Ziva said softy.

Tony wavered. Despite all his unsuccessful efforts over the past year to get to the heart of Gibbs' problem with him, despite the lingering hurt it left – he was simply unable to face the confrontation with Gibbs that he'd felt brewing as soon as he stepped in the house. He would not guess what caused it now, but was keenly aware of the many things it might be, and given his life over the past weeks and months he could _not_ face it at this moment and remain intact.

With a deep breath, he slowly shook his head. He knew that his exhaustion, physical and mental, had robbed him of his usual talent for misdirection, and that the past weeks, largely with only Tali for company, left him momentarily without a mask to pull into place. Under Ziva's haunted scrutiny and Gibbs' supernatural ability to know his every thought, he could not hope to fool anyone. Instead, he admitted slowly, his voice controlled, "I can't stay here. Not tonight. I just ..." Not finding the words to offer more of an explanation, he looked to Ziva. "Jimmy said he has room for us all for a day or two, if we want."

Stunned by his reaction and clearly not expecting the frost between the men, Ziva breathed, in surprise, "Tony..."

Tony had avoided looking at Gibbs until he heard Ziva's reaction, when it dawned on him how much things had changed since she'd left, and how much more they had since Gibbs was injured. With that, he faced the man who he'd so admired as a mentor and partner, and managed, emotions too raw to completely hide them now, "sorry, Gibbs. And thank you. But ... I know the door is locked sometimes, now. So ... maybe ... if it's unlocked again..." again, he wavered, as if he had more to say, but again, found nothing more for the moment. So he turned and walked to the door as both of the people he still loved, more deeply than they understood, stared at him, stunned by the pain they'd seen in his eyes.

Ziva moved first, hearing the door shut behind Tony. She'd seen Tony's awkwardness with Gibbs when he showed up, and thought it might be for their sudden return, or for their clear violation of Rule 12 those years ago, evidenced by their daughter, or for any number of things that Tony might believe meant he let Gibbs down. But _this_ hurt, involving Gibbs, was unexpected, and seemed to be nearly as deep as the one he'd carried for her since her return.

But when she looked to Gibbs in confusion, silently asking what it all meant, and saw in Gibbs his own mix of regret and stubbornness and sadness and more Ziva could not figure out, she knew there had been such a deep schism between the two since she'd been gone that neither man might ever willingly explain it all.

Torn between them, and pulled by the need to get back to Tali, Ziva tried a softer exit. "Gibbs ... thank you, but ..."

He nodded mutely, tipping his head toward the door.

"I am sorry, Gibbs..." she lingered another moment. "May I come again?"

"Not goin' anywhere," he rumbled, but as she turned to walk out, he added, "Ziver..." She turned back to face him. "DiNozzo was wrong. My door has always been open. Just ... sometimes I haven't been here." He hesitated, and dared to offer, "I'm glad you're back. _All_ of you."

She looked at him, the emotions she so tried to hide shimmering near the surface. In a whisper he could barely hear, he heard her murmur, "I know."

She slipped out into the evening. He hadn't heard a car since DiNozzo walked out, and Gibbs suddenly knew Tony had been waiting for her. Uncertain of where both their heads were at the moment, Gibbs, uncharacteristically, went to the window to look out, and saw DiNozzo, straightening from where he'd been leaning against a car – a rental, he assumed, staid and boring – and just what a family would have. Gibbs watched Ziva approach him, tentatively; watched Tony look down, arms folded across his chest as he seemed to pull away and into himself, and watched Ziva deflate a little, right there.

But after a moment, Tony moved to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her. And Ziva straightened, looked at him for a moment, then nodded and slipped inside. And Tony, shutting the door, came around to the other side and got in, never once looking up at his former boss's house.

Gibbs stood at the window for long moments after they'd pulled from his driveway and down the block. The ache in his chest wasn't from anxiety attacks or scar tissue or whatever else the hell the surgery left him – it was the recognition that somehow, these people who had been so close to him, had gone from being brash and fun and even affectionate in their respect for him, had become distant and – as Tony had been, arms over his chest – cautious and self-protective, with him, maybe with the world.

 _But not with Palmer._

Gibbs knew how much it meant for Tony to have someone in his life who cared, and he was grateful that Jimmy Palmer had become, apparently, the friend Ducky was to him. But _he_ was the one who used to be there for Tony, never begrudging the times the younger man had come to him as a sounding board, a shoulder, a safety net. He wasn't exactly sure when or how it had happened, but with all the times this year that DiNozzo had come to him to ask him why he was doing whatever he was doing, something he'd never really done before, all the times that Tate or others had called him on his behavior – Gibbs began to acknowledge, despite his repeated denials, even to himself, a good bit of it started with him.

And now – Ziva was broken, but Gibbs sensed she was looking to both him and Tony for forgiveness and for another chance. She must know that, at least with him, she already had it. Tony... Tony was brittle and maybe, finally, had been broken, too. _Never leave a man, behind, Gunny,_ Shannon's voice whispered in the walls. This time, though – he didn't know if she meant Tony or himself.

Knowing Shannon – still the voice of his conscience over the years, whether times made her fainter or stronger as his life shifted around him – probably both.

 _TBC..._

* * *

A/N2: you'll see that this goes AU on a plot point from the last episode: when Gibbs & Tony said their goodbyes in the basement, I was disappointed that the early-season weirdness with Gibbs' anger/coldness/whateveritwas with Tony was ignored and left hanging (like Gibbs' wardrobe & hair changes!) I didn't think Gibbs' coldness to Tony did justice to any of the characters, but if TPTB decided to put it out there, then they should have given us a reason and some resolution, one way or another, for it all, instead of letting it just linger, so they could trip over it on occasion. I am still confused by it all - and no way were GIBBS' actions satisfactorily explained by his saying, in the final ep, that he'd seen Tony wanting something else for a while. (Puh-LEEZE!) So, in this story, the fracture between them still exists, and I'm hopeful we'll find a resolution for it here.

If it seems like I'm bashing anyone, I'm not - I just find that canon has made them all flawed in their own ways, and more human than some people in fanficdom want to acknowledge, so I think I'm reasonably working what the show put out there. That should make the characters all the more admirable when they recognize and overcome some of those flaws, shouldn't it?

And yeah, I know this is angsty - not usually my thing, but this season and the past couple years has made me kinda angsty where these characters are concerned. So this is my way of working it out. Free therapy - and I'll share!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Reminder:** subsections may move between past and present – watch for the dates as the section starts.

Once again, special thanks for the kind reviews. If I haven't yet gotten back to you, my apologies; I hope to soon, but do know I appreciate your taking the time to comment.

 **SEASONS**

 _September 2, 2016_

Despite Tim's expected concern about being a bother, Tony managed to wrangle from him that he was indeed hungry, and that an omelette did sound like a good idea. Tim watched with a growing sense of wonder as Tony put Tali in a high chair, put a few tiny crackers in front of her, and started pulling out the ingredients for their breakfast as his daughter daintily lifted a cracker to her mouth and chewed happily. Tony chopped and stirred and poured, asking Tim about work, about the people there and the latest gossip as he did – but clearly his heart wasn't in it. Not like the heart of the old, nosy-DiNozzo would have been.

Tim responded at appropriate moments, his mind elsewhere. _He's stalling_ , Tim decided. _Filling the silence with inane chatter, not ready to talk about why I'm here._

McGee wondered how much Tony could have found on his own, without security clearance and the tools he'd be able to access as a federal agent. Probably not as much as he'd been able to do, since even without the access he had at his disposal at NCIS, he was among the best at what he did, and whether he would use them or not, his skills included paths to information that were way off the books and very illegal. Still, Tony _knew_ people, had a surprising list of contacts, and had a gift for old school gumshoing. He'd managed to find Ziva before, on his own and mostly from tracking her as he would a fugitive.

But now? McGee wasn't sure what exactly Tony was looking for. Confirmation of her death? Or had he decided she was alive, and he was tracking _her_ all over again? Tony had gone into Somalia with nearly a blood lust, wanting vengeance and not caring if he came home; he'd gone to Israel hoping that the invitation Ziva sent him was still extended, but stayed to find her and bring her home. When came home alone he had been bruised, his grief so keen that even his masks couldn't hide it.

And now, Tony was definitely stalling, a behavior Tim recognized from those times his partner had something to say, but was worried about the consequences of airing it – or how the information might be perceived. Unwittingly, he thought about Tony's stint as boss, when Gibbs was in Mexico, when Gibbs was shot...

Tony slid a plate in front of him, suddenly, and the scents of egg with gourmet cheese, fresh herbs and _real_ butter made McGee's previously mild hunger pangs kick into high gear. "Eat," he ordered. "Mine will be another minute." Tim glanced up to see another couple eggs go into the small skillet, and understanding the wait, dove into his omelette without another thought.

"Wow – this is great," Tim said honestly, in some surprise.

"It's amazing what a little time to cook and really good ingredients can do," Tony grinned, putting a plate of seed-filled rolls and a small crock of butter on the table. "For three euro I can get a huge chunk of cheese that would cost twenty bucks at home. The good stuff. Fresh fruit and veggies are usually really good, too. There's a lot less fast food, and people here eat less of it – they _cook._ So the stores have ingredients."

"This from the guy who lived on pizza?"

Tony smirked, poking at his omelette. "I still do – but I usually make one. Or something close. I have to make something Tali can eat, so I just make us both something. Not too hard when you don't have a set schedule to follow." He slid his own omelette out onto a plate, and when he sat, Tim noticed that his plate also had a small portion of plain eggs scrambled lightly, a small, colorful spoon beside them. "Want some eggs, Tali-mae?"

As the little girl nodded and opened her mouth for an incoming spoonful, Tim snorted. "You just can't help yourself with the nicknames, can you?"

"Huh?" Tony frowned and looked over at McGee, oblivious to the reference. "When?"

"Just now. Tali-mae. And before, Taliwag." He saw the light go on in Tony's head, and realized then that Tony thought he meant names for _him_ \- and that he probably didn't realize he was doing it with his daughter. "Okay, so it's kinda cute," McGee conceded, "but you're going to have to be sure you don't throw in something x-rated."

"Oh." Tony paused, suddenly looking like he'd been called out for being irresponsible. "I ... yeah, I guess I do invent names for her."

Tim immediately regretted having even mentioned it. "There's nothing wrong with it, Tony," he insisted. "I think even she kinda enjoys it."

But Tony was lost in thought, watching Tali with a now-worried look as he fed her. After a moment, he admitted, "I still sometimes think this is all a big hallucination, ya know? Like I'll wake up in the hospital after being shot and pumped full of those _special_ painkillers that make _Alice in Wonderland_ look sensible." He didn't take his eyes off his little girl. "Jimmy says that you can just ... talk... and it's great for her language development, and bonding, all that. It doesn't always have to make sense." He quietly offered her another bite of eggs, and as she chewed again, smacking her lips a little, his breath caught momentarily, and he managed, with raw candor, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Tim. S... She seems happy, and healthy ... but what would I know? I've been treating this like a protective detail – I watch out for her, stay with her, make sure she has what she needs and stays safe – it's what I know to do. But ... nurturing a child? Teaching her? Doing everything I'm supposed to do?" He shook his head. "This isn't fair to her..."

McGee was suddenly struck with a memory wholly unrelated to the moment – of his father, when he was so sick, weakened by the chemotherapy and a shadow of his former, robust self. Like Tony, the admiral had a sudden, life-altering change in his life that left him adrift, making him think that everything he knew, and everything he'd been, was suddenly gone. It had been hard to know how to approach the admiral, his father, in those moments. But with a brother, it was easier.

"Which protective detail was it that you let your protectee honk your nose?" Tim nudged gently. "Or carried them around on your back? You said it yourself – Tali's happy, she's healthy... I think when she came to NCIS she was communicating only in Hebrew. Sounds like she's added English and even some French." Tony didn't look convinced. "She's _fine_ , Tony," McGee urged. "Besides, you're not planning to stay here permanently, are you?" He was itching to finally start talking about the elephant in the room, to ask Tony what he'd found out and why he needed his help. "You get things sorted out about Ziva, then you can worry about stuff like Sesame Street and ... and whatever it is that kids are into now."

"I just ..." Tony trailed off, his voice suddenly thickening. "It's all so ... surreal, her being here. First of all, after Somalia..." Tony was heading into intensely private territory, but he desperately needed to think this through with someone he trusted, and, at that moment in his life, Tim was the only one he knew he could trust with the information. "Ziva wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant _at all_ , let alone carry the pregnancy to term. So I don't know about _her_ , but at the time, her getting pregnant was the last thing on my mind. And then ..." His eyes focused on the past, on that time, "by the time I finally found her in Israel, after Bodnar and losing her father and all that, she wasn't herself. She was ..." He looked for words, "she was frayed, like she was going to explode into a million pieces any minute."

Tim frowned. "You never said..."

"How could I? She wouldn't have wanted anyone to know, if she'd been thinking clearly. She saw herself as a monster, Tim, someone who destroyed dozens of lives. She wasn't herself, and I don't think the Ziva we knew would want anyone to see her that way." Tony looked away, guilt tearing at him. "I never should have left her like that..."

"But she wanted you to leave. Right?" Tim reminded him.

"Oh, yeah..." he nodded, remembering her intensity. "And after a while I was afraid if I stayed, she'd just be even more agitated," he shrugged. "I thought if I left she might settle down and get past whatever it was. We had talked about her sort of starting over, making a new life ahead, away from all the killing, but ..." He rubbed his forehead, again wondering how the hell he could have left her as frantic and frazzled and delusional as she seemed. "She wasn't really focused on a new life but – restitution, I guess. She kept talking about all the lives she had ruined, not just those she killed, but their family, children ... lovers... it wouldn't have surprised me if she had tried to track down every relative of every person she had ever killed. It wasn't healthy, Tim, not letting those deaths get to her like that. It must have been eating at her for a long time for her to be that upset, and she just pushed it all down until it got to be too much – and the breaking point was when her friend and her brother were involved. And if she thought she should somehow go to every one of them and make amends – well, then, that's probably even more disturbing."

Tim had heard the basic facts, but the extent of Ziva's agitation and disturbance was sobering. "I didn't know," Tim murmured, stunned by the image of Ziva in such despair.

Tony blinked suddenly as his eyes misted over momentarily at the thought. "You're going to think I've gone around the bend, too, Tim," Tony drew a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye. "But I think there's a good chance that Ziva's still alive – or at least that she didn't die in the farmhouse." He steeled himself for his friend's protest. "What Orli said didn't add up, and there were just too many inconsistencies with that I know about ...what I _knew_ about Ziva." He wouldn't make eye contact at the moment. "I have a couple leads that I hoped you could help me with."

When he finally lifted his eyes to McGee, the younger man nodded, firmly. "Me, too," he admitted.

"Gibbs had you looking?" Tony asked suddenly, and McGee hated that he would have to squelch the hope he saw rise so quickly. _Will that hope ever fail to rise, any time Gibbs' name is mentioned?_ he wondered.

"No ... sorry. And Vance didn't ask either, exactly, but ... he sort of said to let him know if I ever heard anything he should know about. Not exactly sanctioned, but ... looking the other way, I guess."

"The wink," Tony murmured, nodding to himself. Almost preferring not to ask, Tony held his breath, and dared, "Find anything?"

Tim nodded. "I found some communications that aren't exactly a smoking gun – but they sure sound like Mossad plans to blow up a farmhouse ... and to plant evidence that someone had been killed in the blast," he watched as Tony absorbed this confirmation of what he'd found, too. "They wanted everyone to think it was Ziva."

"You don't think it was her, either," Tony said slowly, trying not to hope for too much.

"No ... but I've hit dead ends after that," McGee admitted. "I haven't found evidence that she is alive somewhere else."

Tony ran a hand through his hair and laughed shakily. "I did, Tim. And it's why you're here," he breathed. "Your magic geeking skills can help me follow those leads and find her."

* * *

 _October 28-29, 2016_

The next day, as far as Gibbs could tell, he was the only one who knew that Tony and Ziva were in town – or even in the States. Clearly Abby was none the wiser, as there was not a whiff of change in her demeanor from the previous day. Had she known Ziva was still alive, or that the two of them were anywhere close by, she would have been bouncing around her lab like a pachinko ball. Bishop wouldn't have any reason to know, if the others didn't, but Tim would have given it away, certain to look guilty for knowing but not telling.

Ducky probably knew. No way could Palmer keep a secret from him, and the elderly doctor could be a master at deception if need be.

But as the day wore on, Gibbs was less concerned about who knew, and more concerned that he had not heard from either of them. Granted, they had a lot of adjustments to make, and a lot going on, but he thought at least Ziva might call. When he went home that evening, he half expected one of them to be on his couch waiting, and when the evening ground on into the wee hours and no one came to hash out the last few months with him, his gut, only murmuring earlier, became increasingly demanding. He wasn't worried that either of them was in trouble, not like being on the job; it was more the growing realization that he might have done irreparable damage to his team and his best agent this time, when he kept shutting DiNozzo out.

 _Former agent_ , he reminded himself.

So the next morning, when he didn't have so much as a text from either of them, Gibbs made his way down to autopsy to see what he could learn from Palmer.

He knew that Ducky would not be in that morning. The "team" had been expected in but, with no bodies pending his attention, and it being a Saturday morning, the doctor gave himself a morning off, leaving the department in the reliable hands of the newly minted _Dr._ Palmer. Even so, Gibbs waited until 0930, when his team was with Abby and her updates, to slip down to autopsy. As the doors slid open, the Agency's younger medical examiner looked up with an expectant half smile on his lips, and froze slightly when he saw Gibbs.

 _He always does that_ , Gibbs growled to himself, wondering if the kid would ever get past his nervousness. "Hey, Palmer," he forced himself to be calm. Even after a decade the kid still had his moments of turning into a scared rabbit around him.

"Special Agent Gibbs," the younger man managed. "Dr. Mallard won't be in until this afternoon. He's ..."

"'Puttering around home' this morning, I know," Gibbs nodded. "Came to see you."

"M..me?" To his credit, Jimmy didn't squeak, exactly.

"Tony and Ziva are staying at your place?"

"No. I mean, yes, they were, but they left this morning. They were just there a couple nights."

"Where did they go?"

Jimmy looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I think you need to ask them that." When Gibbs just glared at him, automatically falling into interrogation mode, the Autopsy Gremlin was surprisingly immune, apparently inoculated from years of being on the receiving end, even sporadically. "Tony's local cell phone number is the same as before."

"I know – he's not answering."

"I know." Gibbs' eyebrows went up at that; even in his growing irritation he was impressed that the man was starting to show some backbone. "Look, Agent Gibbs – they have a _lot_ to work through," Jimmy explained. "Things aren't – " He stopped suddenly, second guessing his initial impulse to tell their former boss more, but then went ahead, "they're not too great with them at the moment. They have a lot of things to discuss, but they're not exactly talking right now. It's complicated – "

"Like that's any different with those two?" Gibbs' voice rose in frustration.

"No, but ... from what Breena and I could see," Palmer went on gamely, "they're both hurting and on completely different pages. They need time, Agent Gibbs. They have to sort out what's what for themselves."

Gibbs considered, knowing he could have McGee track DiNozzo's cell, probably even find out Ziva's number. "Can you at least tell me if they're still in the area?"

"Oh – yes, they are. At least that was the plan." Palmer watched the supervisory agent, clearly wanting to help somehow but at a loss in the circumstances, and he felt another wave of sadness at the whole mess. "Look, Agent Gibbs. They just need some time. _Uninterrupted_ ," he tried again. "They're here because this is home for them both. Part of home is that _we're_ all here. But they need to figure things out between them before they involve the rest of us – I mean, we all probably will have opinions and thoughts about what's right for them. I think the fact that they realize they need to have something of a grip on that for themselves first is pretty healthy. Don't you?"

Gibbs stared at the man, who looked decidedly uncomfortable but stood his ground. He sighed, knowing that his last months with DiNozzo made it even more true. "Yeah, Palmer, I do." He considered the younger man for a moment and asked, "they're still in touch with you – they can call you, if they need something?"

"Of course, Agent Gibbs." The young doctor looked at him with a slightly puzzled look, as if surprised he'd have to ask. "And I think they probably know they can call you, too, or any of us, when they're ready. That's why they're here," he reminded him gently.

Gibbs grunted a humorless laugh. "Yeah." He turned to go, but then turned, as if just remembering Palmer was a doctor now, too. "How does Ziva look to you? Both physically ... and mentally?"

Jimmy shook his head in his concern, suddenly on familiar territory with a medical question. "Not great. She wasn't too forthcoming, but she was willing to answer some questions and let me suggest some nutritional supplements, that sort of thing. I also suggested she see someone – a couple someones – but I don't think she will, at least not until they settle in here a bit more."

"Did they tell you what happened yet, either to her or between them?"

"No," Jimmy answered immediately, clearly frustrated that they had not. "I didn't press, but I think it may have been pretty bad for her. At least as healthy as Tali is, it must have been mostly after she and Tali parted ways."

"And they didn't even say what happened with that?"

Jimmy's eyes glittered warily behind his glasses as he answered, "no. And I didn't press on _that_ , and I would suggest that you don't either, Agent Gibbs. From what I gather – and inadvertently overheard – she hasn't even told Tony about it all yet, and as you can imagine that's pretty hard for Tony to accept. He's trying, but..." Palmer shrugged, "it's more of what they have to work out."

Gibbs frowned as Palmer put some of the pieces together for him. It sounded like the baggage both had always carried was getting heavier and more complex. And their child – one unknown to Tony until so recently – couldn't make it easier. "Are they together?" he asked suddenly, trying to make it make sense. "Tony and Ziva? Other than Tali, I mean – are they a couple?"

"Not exactly. Not how you mean." Palmer mused, then tried, "even when they're not together, they were partners for so long, they _are_ together, in a way. But – " He hesitated, but clearly he thought this was important, and important enough that he thought Gibbs needed to know. "They _are_ a couple, down deep, but they have so many layers of hurt and scar tissue, and so many trust issues, they may not ever get past it all to get there again."

Gibbs considered his words for a moment, then nodded. Maybe not the clearest description of what was going on with them, but enough that he knew it was just what he'd begun to suspect, too. Straightening, he looked Palmer in the eye and tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Thanks, Jimmy," he said softly, "and thanks for being there for them."


	5. Chapter 5

**Reminder:** watch the dates! We're still moving between past and "present."

 **A/N:** Once again, special thanks for the kind reviews. I have fallen behind some with both the chapters and my responses to reviews, so have not replied to too many from the past couple chapters. I really do appreciate hearing your comments and as always love to hear your reactions. I hope you don't mind my using my available time for chapter updates rather than replies to your reviews.

 **SEASONS**

 _September 5, 2016_

"Wow. That was ... strangely unsatisfying," Tony managed. His forced laugh sounded more like a gulp than anything.

"But expected. We knew she wouldn't just _answer_ ," McGee pointed out. "They never do. We've done this enough times, same thing." He couldn't help but notice that Tony's hands actually shook slightly as he ran them down his face.

"Yeah, but it's a lot different when it's personal."

For the past thirty six hours, Tony and Tim had filled each other in on all their efforts over the past weeks to track Ziva's activities leading up to the explosion at her family's farmhouse, and to track all the reports, data and communications – both "public" and classified – which would point to what really had happened in those weeks. Of the thousands possible, Tim had isolated three cell phone numbers, among which he felt confident one or more would be hers; he had accessed communications that Tony was certain would get him locked up in a heartbeat, if he'd been caught. Tony told Tim of the conversations he'd had with several people, both within and outside of Mossad, from which, with dogged persistence over many weeks, and connecting all the dots, he obtained enough information to determine several significant errors in the version of events given to the media about her "death."

And he took all that to Adam Eishel.

On arrival in Israel, knowing he would be watched by Mossad or others during his stay, Tony had traded in a few favors and contacts to see someone at the U.S. Embassy. From there, he scheduled three more visits, a few weeks apart, each time using their secure facilities to make calls or contacts he hoped Mossad could not reach. After months of getting the brush off from Orli and Mossad, sometimes less cordially than others, he stubbornly continued his leg work, gathering all the information he could before, finally, arranging to meet Adam as his last act in Israel.

He went armed with all the evidence he had gathered, hoping that, once again, Ziva's friend would come through for him, not only for her sake, but for Tali's, and if Adam didn't know any more than he did, he might be willing to supply more names or connections to be pursued. If Ziva had stayed in contact with anyone in Israel, it might have been Adam; if anyone outside of Mossad might know what was going on with her, he might. And so the one and only time he left Tali behind, in the care of one of the Embassy staffers who had been charmed by them both, Tony went to meet Adam, alone. He wasn't going to take any chances of losing her to any Israeli who wasn't named Ziva David.

Listening to Tony describe his meeting with Adam, Tim knew that he was glossing over the details, but if he did it to protect Ziva, or to protect _him_ , or even to avoid the more painful parts, Tim couldn't tell. But Tony _did_ say that Adam clearly knew more than he was telling. Despite being surprised at the amount of information Tony had managed to put together, Adam had seemed disinclined to talk, until Tony mentioned, probably in some desperation, one, minor detail that had made all the difference – that Tali was with _him_.

It was apparent that Adam didn't know mother and daughter had been separated, or why. More disturbing, the fact that it was Orli who brought Tali to the U.S. visibly rattled Adam – and let Tony something had gone very wrong. "At that point, Adam admitted that he didn't think it was Ziva who was found after the explosion, especially after he saw someone he was sure was her – but he didn't tell me more than that about seeing her. He said he would check into some things, and then contacted me one more time. He didn't say much, other than Ziva had been sent undercover some weeks before the explosion, and the mission – or _she_ – went off script, then dark. From what Adam could put together, Mossad lost all contact with her, but they didn't know if she had been made, or dropped out of the mission. Adam thinks that somewhere in there, Orli had Tali brought into Mossad's custody – he worried Orli might have even taken Tali as leverage to get Ziva's participation in the mission. When they lost contact with Ziva, Orli packed up Tali and took her to the U.S." Tony had paused for many moments, clearly still furious with the implications, before adding, "I told Adam what Orli said about her relationship with Ziva during her pregnancy, and after, how they mended fences." Tony's eyes had been far away, playing over both conversations yet again. "He didn't buy it."

Tim had pressed for more, for why Adam didn't believe Orli, for what he might have said about Ziva being back undercover – but Tony waved it off, saying Adam hadn't said much more or was vague about the details. And while those details didn't help them in their search for Ziva, some of the other information had – and helped Tony guess one more possible information source.

"Monique Lisson," Tony had pronounced. "I need your help in figuring out how to find her, Tim."

"Monique..." Tim frowned, "wasn't she...?"

"Ziva's friend – her _mentor_ , from what the two of them implied. She was French – from Avignon originally, I think they said. When she worked with us in 2012 in Columbia she wasn't long out of Interpol and implied she was freelancing. She'd been working around Cartegena when we met her there, some project that had Ziva worried. That was long enough ago that, probably, her work there, whatever it was, is done – or it caught up with her. If she _is_ still alive ... Ziva trusts Monique, and if she knew where to find her, might go to her for help."

"Why wouldn't she call us – or at least Gibbs?"

Tony sighed. "She can't have missed the news coverage saying that she died," he speculated. "Maybe she's using that to hide while she can." Leaning forward, the older man considered his former probie. "We need to find Monique, Tim. If she doesn't know where Ziva is or how to find her – we're at a dead end."

The search for information on Monique had taken several hours. They fit in a break or two, for a walk and dinner, Tim repeatedly impressed that DiNozzo had managed not to lose his patience, given the time it was taking and the stakes involved. When he mentioned it, in the wee hours as they worked, Tony had pointed out that he'd been at it for weeks – _months_ – and if it took as long again, he was ready for it.

As McGee turned back to his search, he sincerely hoped they would have something soon, and, in only another four hours, he found a missing link; in two more, all without telling Tony, he found a phone number that should lead to Lisson, maybe even to her directly. In just two more, he confirmed his findings enough to let Tony know what he'd found. It took only 30 seconds before Tony called the number and, after talking to an voice-mail system, he hung up and shot the same number a text.

And now, call made, Tony suddenly came up dry, nothing more to do to change the odds, force the information, hurry a response. Nothing but wait. "Strangely unsatisfying," he murmured again, in a whisper. He stared off in the distance for several moments, then suddenly popped up, paced, the nerves that had been held at bay until now finally breaking. "And now we wait. Here? For how long? Would we be okay to leave, or are we stuck in place?"

Tim stood too, not too surprised to see Tony finally upended by the process. "Well, we don't have to be – we just watch to be sure we're in good cell phone reception range, which shouldn't be a problem. No Metro, though."

"For how long, McGee?" Tony asked again, finally turning back to him, and Tim realized how completely Tony saw this as his last, final hope to get answers – to find Ziva alive. "Bet the FBI has statistics for length of time it takes to get a call back as predicting the likelihood that someone comes home. How would their domestic stats translate to international terrorists? Or Interpol agents?"

"Tony..." McGee said softly. His friend was on the verge of losing it, and Tim didn't know how to help him get it together – they both had a good idea of the odds. "Look, let's get out of here for a bit. You and Tali can show me the sights."

Tony stopped in his tracks, looked back at his friend, and finally nodded. "Yeah. And maybe get some lunch? A picnic," he tried, gamely.

Tim grinned wearily, glad to see him try to rally. "Sure. On the Siene? Just so I can say I was there?"

Tony nodded. "We can get you there. I'll get Tali ready." As he turned, though, his phone went off in his hand. Glancing at the number, he paled at the immediacy of the call, but glanced up at McGee with a quick nod and hit the call screen. "Yeah," he clipped. He listened, licked his lips, then rattled off his address. As he drew another breath to speak, he stopped abruptly, and looked as stunned as if struck. He pulled the phone away from his ear. "She hung up," he whispered.

"Was it Monique?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. Well – I think so. It could have been. Definitely female, and I think the accent was French. She just said my name then asked for this address." He stared at the phone in his hand. He frowned, and looked up. "If ... if Ziva was dead, and Monique knew she was ... she would have said, wouldn't she?"

At McGee's sad shrug, DiNozzo just stared again at the phone, for the first time in many weeks out of options.

"Well, that _is_ it, isn't it?" he said, dully. "We wait until we're done waiting." Tony sat heavily, hand running through his hair. "I don't know what I'll say to her, Tim," he finally admitted shakily. "All I want at this minute is to find her alive, and safe, and healthy. But then ... I don't know. I don't know why I should believe anything Orli said, given all lies she's told us in the past and now, again, apparently ... but she said that Ziva _decided_ not to tell me she was pregnant, or about Tali. Nothing prevented her, and she didn't just put it off. Not telling me I have a daughter? Hiding her from me? And – she was back with Mossad? After sending me away, telling me she wants to put it all behind her?" He rubbed his forehead, his frustration apparent. "I just want to know the truth, and ... _why_."

Tim considered him. "Guess you'll just have to take it one step at a time," he shrugged. "It's Ziva, Tony – complex at the best of times. And you said it – she was messed up by everything the past few years. It may all make sense from her perspective, whatever has happened."

"I want Tali to have her mom," Tony said simply. "That's the most important. I had my mom until I was eight, and no way was it long enough. Tali needs her mom," he sighed.

"I won't stop looking, Tony." They both knew that, with Tim returning to Washington the next day, that his efforts would largely be at a distance again. But they now were working in tandem and on the same page – just like old times.

"I know, Probie." He sighed, then stood again, "and for that – the least we can do is find you lunch along the Seine."

* * *

 _October 28, 2016_

The day was chilly, but clear and crisp, the sky an intense blue that happens only in the fall. Taking the baby monitor outside with her, Ziva went outside to sit on the steps, sipping her tea. The house was silent again, now that the girls were down for a nap. As she had the day before, Ziva had waited until Jimmy and Breena had showered and left for work, trying to stay out of their way as much as possible as the busy couple made the usual morning dash. This time, however, she had saved them a bit of time by assuring the couple it was no more problem to care for the two girls as it would one. The afternoon before, she found that she could entertain them both without much problem, much to Breena's delight when the young mother, expecting to have the day off, was called in to work due to a sudden back to back to back set of calls for their services. She agreed to "take advantage" of Ziva, as she put it, since Jimmy would be home in couple hours. Neither of the women knew where Tony was, and neither mentioned him, but after Breena left, Ziva discovered that in her time alone with the tiny girls, their giggles and unending wonder at the smallest things around them let her forget the world outside. She felt herself relaxing a little for the first time in a long while.

And now, having spent the morning with Ziva again, this time outside, in the sunshine, the girls napped peacefully, fed, bathed, and tucked in. Without their laughter and nascent questions and delight at the world, Ziva felt the chill she hadn't earlier as the weight of the past months and years came back to haunt her.

She knew it was better for Tali to be here, in the States; better for Tali to be not only with her, but also with her father, and their friends – their _family_.

But again, today, Tony was gone when she got up with Tali. Despite her voiced concerns about his back, he insisted on taking the couch so she and Tali could have the Palmers' guestroom. Both the day before and that morning, she'd awakened early, but did not hear him leave, and yesterday he came back with Jimmy. Since they had landed in the U.S., there had been no time when they were alone to discuss things. Ziva wasn't sure Tony wanted to talk; he had been absent most of the time they'd been there, and Ziva brooded whether it was simply to avoid her. He had been reserved with her since soon after her arrival in Paris, and whether he was holding back from interrogating her, or from expressing anger or frustration or whatever about all that had happened, or from allowing himself to connect with someone he could no longer trust, she could not tell. Whatever it was, it hurt her, more than she dared show, to think that the partner she used to know so well was hidden to her, but she had no strength to do more than simply hold on – to her sanity, to her child – and hope to weather whatever storm might be brewing. Her world had again collapsed into her survival mode of taking things day by day – sometimes, hour by hour. Maybe, with time, there would be more. But for now, she could only wait and watch and hang on with all her might.

She took a sudden, deep breath, forcing herself back to the present, the here and now. She reminded herself where she was, the relative safety and freedom she had in this place. She worked to hold on to the moment, trying hard to put aside the pressing guilt and anxiety and pain that always lurked in the corners of her thoughts now, when they caught up with her...

She heard the front door, and turned with a slight bump of anxiety – the garage door had not opened, and only she and Tony had come and gone through the front, parking at the curb. Through the large back windows, she saw him come into kitchen, and she stood in place, facing him. Waiting.

He seemed to hesitate, once he saw her, but then came outside and saw the monitor in her hand. The question that had been on his face resolved upon seeing it, and, almost as an olive branch, he spoke as he nodded toward it. "Nap time, huh?"

"Yes," she nodded, dropping her gaze as she did. She found that was harder to look him in the eye, in the light of day, when they were alone.

"When Jimmy or Breena get back, I have something to show you. You and Tali both, if you like," he said quietly.

Ziva nodded again, quickly, again not looking at him. "That would be fine," she agreed, without having any idea what he had in mind. "Breena said she would be home by 3:00, so thirty minutes or so." In the next moment, she heard the soft sounds of their daughter waking. "And ... Tali is joining us any moment, so ..." she hesitated only slightly before moving back into the house, and Tony wondered if she were as relieved as he that she'd been called away.

He stood in place, silent for a moment, looking out over the small patio and yard. He hated the distance between them but didn't know how to bridge the gulf without talking, and those first days in Paris, she wouldn't – or _couldn't_ – talk about everything that had happened since he left her in Israel three years before. He'd seen the pain still in her eyes as they lifted to his briefly before looking away. He had the sense that she was waiting – for orders? Absolution? Waiting to be kicked out? Waiting to be executed? She had been a little more animated with Tali and even with Tori, but their little human radar sensed the darkness in her mother and had sought her arms, her cuddles, whimpering more often than she ever did before, when it was just the two of them.

With a sigh, Tony drew a breath. He needed to make things more normal, but with Ziva's disturbing quiet and his own reticence about letting anyone in at the moment, he knew it wasn't anything they could do overnight. This wasn't them. In fact, it was so _not_ them that he wanted to go back to Israel and tear the country apart, so he could find where they had hidden the real Ziva, and learn who this android-zombie-Stepford-Ziva was who was taking her place.

He reminded himself it would take time, and, at the moment, it was something they had in spades. With another deep breath he went on in to Tori's room, where he heard Ziva's soft voice speaking to their daughter. Peering into the room and seeing his daughter beam her delight that he'd appeared, he came in and spoke to her, picking her up when she reached for him. "Want to go for a ride in a little while, with Ima and me, little miss Tali?" Tony bounced her lightly, speaking quietly as Tori began to wake with the others' activity. It was the one time Tony could see a genuine smile from Ziva now, watching her daughter, even at her clear devotion to her Abba.

Tony hid the sudden, inexplicable pang of hurt he felt by blowing a quick raspberry to Tali's tummy, nuzzling her as she laughed. Maybe, just maybe, they could keep the smiles and laughter coming, he thought, on both of them. They really needed it these days.

Breena made it home sooner than she had anticipated, and without too much delay, Tony was behind the wheel, driving Ziva and Tali to see his surprise. The trip was no more than twenty-five minutes, and eventually he pulled into a tree-lined street, filled with well-tended yards and attractive, welcoming homes. He made his way to down a quiet cul de sac and suddenly pulled into a driveway. He cut the engine.

Ziva looked over at him, uncertain. Suddenly nervous, Tony opened the door and got out, ready to face the music. "C'mon," he tried to sound confident. "Let's take a look." As he reached into the back to get Tali out of her carseat, Ziva got out of the passenger side and looked up at the cheery house and the gloriously red and gold leaves of the hardwood trees that shaded the house and yard. Ziva noted the well-established rose bushes that would have to wait until spring to show their colors, and the beautiful leaded glass panels set along the front door.

"Ladies..." Tony up behind Ziva then on past her to open the front door and let her in. He shut the door behind them and glanced at Ziva, hoping for a sign. "So ... what do you think?"

Ziva blinked at him in some surprise. She took a few tentative steps into the unfurnished front room, noting the simple yet elegant fireplace, the tasteful light fixtures – the pieces were good quality, their clean lines showing off their fine materials. "It ... is lovely, Tony."

"Come see the kitchen." He walked out with Tali still in his arm, and let Ziva take in the roomy cooking area, the corner nook where a table would be, and the family room that spilled on past to open onto an oversized window on the far wall that looked out onto a lush green lawn bordered with tall hedges, allowing for privacy. He stood by quietly as Ziva walked around more readily the longer they were there, looking into the pantry and mudroom, peeked down the hall and up the stairs. He began to follow, finally saying, "there are four bedrooms. They're not huge, but can handle enough furniture to live."

She turned, and looked a bit puzzled. "But ... four bedrooms? Will you use them all?"

He frowned, not getting it, until it occurred to him that this had all come together in his head, without sounding her out about it. Suddenly he felt another wave of insecurity, wondering if she'd run the other way. "I ... uh ... I thought this way there would be enough room for us all." He dared to come closer to her, and there was something in her eyes, something surprised and yearning in them that made words tumble from his mouth. "Look, no pressure, but – " he swallowed nervously, tamping down the self-preservation response in him reminding him of the tougher times between them, "neither of us wants to be the parent who has to drop her off after a visit, or say goodnight on the phone. We're both here in town, neither of us have job commitments or schedules right now, and both of us want to be under the roof where Tali is staying. So I've checked out every option I could think of – condo, apartment, townhouse, stand-alone house; Virginia, Maryland, the District; rent, buy, swap, rent to buy ..." he shrugged, looking around. "But one thing led to another and I found saw this one and there was just something about it..." He hesitated, and said, quietly, "no pressure, Ziva. Just ... if you want. As you see, there are plenty of rooms, plenty of _room_. I am not trying to force anything..."

She looked up to the green eyes she knew so well and saw some of the same pain and longing she had seen in Israel, but in a face and stance which was cautious, self-protective. "What about you, Tony?" she asked quietly. "You might prefer to have your home to yourself, if you have company..."

Her words had an effect; if anything, his hurt seemed to ripple slightly before he could control it. "Won't be a problem," he murmured. "But of course, if you had anyone..."

"It will not be a problem for me, either." She murmured, looking up at him again through her lashes.

"Look, I know this is fast – and unfortunately, they will hold it for only 48 hours before listing it. But it's not even on the market yet, and if we take it right away we can rent for up to a year, see if we like it. They found they have some problems clearing the title that they're working to fix, so we can take advantage of that delay and let them have the rent – if we want it."

Ziva looked around the house, slowly, feeling a sorrow that what would normally be a happy, exciting milestone was so hard. "If I were not here ... or if Tali and I were not here ... would you take it?"

Tony felt a sudden drop in his stomach, and he blurted, "Ziva – please," he went closer. "We agreed that it's safer for you both to be here. If you don't want to be in the same house, fine, but if you leave..."

Her eyes grew large as it dawned on Ziva what he had heard in her question, and she interrupted, so surprised that she even reached out to put a hand on his arm. "Tony, no – I did not mean..." She saw him regroup, emotion coloring his cheeks, and she did not remove her hand, hoping to steady him. "I was wondering if you liked the house well enough that you might have bought it, even if you were not having to look out for anyone else." She met his eyes and added softly, down deep meaning so much more than just the moment, "I am sorry." She dropped her hand, slowly, self-conscious for causing his misunderstanding.

He held her gaze, suddenly aware of just how much he had missed his partner over the past three years, and felt a mix of relief and embarrassment as her explanation filtered in. He finally gulped and nodded. "Well – good," he breathed. "And ... uh ... yeah. I think I would. There's something about it..." He hedged, "I probably wouldn't have been looking for a whole house for me alone, but because I did," he shrugged, "I do like it." He looked at her, and asked, cautiously, "do you?"

She nodded slowly, and said, "very much so. It is a very nice home, Tony."

His relief was immediate, but in the next moment, he was uncertain about the rest. "So ... then, I will tell them yes, and ..." his heart reminded him of all the times it had been broken and to tread carefully. "You can decide, if ... if you want to live here too. No hurry. I mean, if I move in, and you're not ready ..."

"If you do not mind our being all under one roof ... we are adults," Ziva reasoned carefully, "and ... it would be best for Tali. And ... it makes things so easy, for me, and ... it is appreciated." She glanced up again at him, and wondered how she could ever forget, as she had at times over the years, what a good man he was. "Thank you for doing all this, and ... for thinking of it."

As relief filled him, he bounced Tali a little and smoothed her hair. He reminded himself to stay focused, and not go crazy with assumptions or to plan for more than a day at a time, but at least he would have Tali under his roof for now – Ziva too. He would be able to see Tali every day, know Ziva was safe. Even if that was all there was, it should be enough for anyone, and in light of all that has happened over the past three years, over the past _decade_ , he was grateful just for this.

 _ **TBC**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** thanks to those who have taken the time to send a review – because throwing untested stories up into the universe can be daunting, your responses to what's been posted, whether good, bad , or indifferent, are grounding. I am doing my best to keep this moving (sleep is overrated!)

Again, watch the dates: we are still moving between past & present, but the dates are much closer now. (And sorry for repeated reminders, but, you know...)

 **SEASONS**

 _October 24, 2016_

Tony had done his best to keep his thoughts away from Ziva, from his discussions with McGee and his call to Monique, and from all the possibilities facing them out there, as he waited to hear back. He knew logically that it would not be quick, and he might not hear anything at all. Or worse, that she would confirm that Ziva indeed was gone. But there was something in Monique's voice, no matter how brief; something in the careful way she spoke to him, that put him on high alert – he was sure that Monique knew something. If it was simply that had Ziva died, Monique would have just told him, he was certain.

He allowed himself to hope she was alive. Beyond that, he didn't know what he thought. He tried very hard not to think _any_ thing yet; if she were alive it would mean that Orli had lied to him about her death; if she lied about that, she could easily have lied about Ziva purposefully choosing not to tell him that he had a daughter. But "purposeful" or not, Ziva had not called or texted or emailed despite always knowing how to reach him, a thought he could not get past. _Not yet_.

He was wound up and tense as he waited those first hours; Tim left the day after they made the call, and Tony was stoically pragmatic with himself those first days. But after four days and he had not heard anything back from Monique, he became alternately worried and frustrated and pissed, and when he tried calling Monique again, he had no response. The same thing happened when he called every two days for a while, and the same thing happened the terrible weekend when he broke down and called every two hours for what seemed to be days on end.

After that ... after realizing that he needed to let go and be a father first and foremost, Tony stopped phoning. He always had his phone with him, and kept the battery fully charged, but that was it. More days went by, then weeks; he heard from Tim fairly often but only once or twice with more information. Maybe McGee sensed his despair; maybe it was because Tony never mentioned Ziva, or Monique, or their search, but he had the feeling that his Probie understood he was nearing the time he would be able to mourn her loss. Tony would not let himself fully grieve yet, not with Tali depending on him, but he started allowing himself the thought that she might, this time, really be gone. The thought left him numb and cold and aching all over again. Tony didn't know if his previous times of grief made this time easier or harder.

It was Tali who kept him getting up in the morning and moving through his day; she let him find a glimmer of purpose in his life, even moments of joy. Being a father, being one on one with a toddler, were such untried experiences in his life that each day brought something new. During her naps, left alone to think, Tony could barely summon the energy to read his email, let alone the news or anything else; during her waking hours, when he saw something of Ziva in his daughter or watched her achieve a new milestone that her mother should be seeing too, it could take his breath away. But he pushed on, living hour by hour, then day by day. When it became week by week, he knew it was time to look ahead to his future as a single parent.

Fall in Paris was beautiful, but he barely noticed it as this dark time passed, other than noting that as the weather cooled, he needed to think about warmer clothing for Tali. "Fashion week in Paris, sweetpea," he said to her during breakfast. "Do you know how many little girls – not to mention big girls – would want a piece of that?"

"Yes!" she nodded firmly.

He laughed at her response. "Oh, you do?" He watched her nod again, one or two exaggerated, firm nods, then take a bite of her apple slice. "How many?"

"Dis many!" She held up both her hands, fingers spread as far as they would go, as she grinned widely.

"I think you're right," he grinned, sipping his espresso. "So you're up for shopping today?" This time his smile wasn't quite so big, as he again thought that this should be something more of a 'mommy and me' time – something she would probably never know. He sighed, pushing it away yet again. He didn't mind doing it, not at all; it just was something he wished his daughter could have in her life. "Let's get in our morning run, and then we come back and clean up and get out there. What do you think?" he asked as took her bowl and put his cup in the sink. "Avenue Montaigne? Or maybe Rue Saint Honoré?" When she clapped, he pretended to think it over. "Alright – both," he came back to her with a warm washcloth to quickly – and, by now rather efficiently, he thought – wiped off her mouth, face and hands. Lifting her, giving her a quick kiss which was returned by her with all the flourish a two year old could muster, he babbled to her as he got her ready to head out that morning, working to hide from his daughter the now-chronic ache he felt, with every one of her cute reactions, every newly tried word, every _smile_ – that if nothing else, it was so damn unfair that mother and daughter were not together for every one of those moments.

Tali always enjoyed their outings, but once they had started their ritual of a morning jog, Tony would swear that she woke earlier, happier, and cooperated in every way she could in order to hurry their trip outside. "Definitively your mother's girl, there," he murmured ruefully, as he zipped up her jacket and she nearly danced to the front door. "We DiNozzos may do our share of working out, but not because we actually _like_ it," he explained to her in a singsong voice that made her giggle. They came out of the apartment and down the stairs, Tali clambering into her stroller and bouncing around a little in anticipation. From recent experience, Tony knew that Tali would politely tolerate his walk across the road to the park, and his more sedate, warm up jog, but if he didn't put on a burst of speed once they were in the park or on an open path along the river, she would call at the top of her blessedly healthy lungs, "giddyup, Abba!," always eliciting smiles and chuckles from the locals.

With Tali happily babbling as he began jogging in earnest and she was getting a bit of speed in her tour of the park, Tony thought about heading over to the U.S. Embassy that morning to see if they were still keeping an eye out for information that might lead to Ziva. Though his status as a former federal agent, and his powerful ally with her big, happy dimples, got him a bit more courtesy there than he might have otherwise, he got little of actual use from them. Aware that the Embassy was tasked with assisting in cases of US citizens missing abroad, Tony at least talked himself inside and managed an occasional few minutes while they filled him in on what they had _not_ found. It wasn't too productive, but it was free, and after calling Monique, he had not come up with any other options to explore. For those first weeks he refused to give up. Tali deserved a mother and he vowed that he would not stop until he found Ziva, or was satisfied that she was no longer alive.

But after a month, his visits were further between; they had no answers and offered no resources to find her. They had his number and always assured him they would call if they had any news. So he didn't write them off. But he knew that he needed to spend his time elsewhere, and if it was shopping with Tali today instead of another fruitless trip to the Embassy, that would probably be better for them both.

Tony listened to Tali and her running commentary as they passed trees and other runners and nannies with babies, her sunny enthusiasm lightening even his musings about the increasingly unproductive search for Ziva. He chattered back to her absently, narrating what he was doing more for the language input and keeping her entertained than thinking about what he was saying. His thoughts were on what he could say at the Embassy when he did go in again, maybe to change up their efforts. They knew Ziva had been a special agent too, and had been targeted for an attack; he wondered what more he could offer to keep their interest.

They looped the park, crossing over into another neighborhood and on toward the galleries and food stalls just opening for the day. Tali waved back to all the vendors and artists opening their shops for the morning who waved or blew her a kiss. Tony waved or nodded as well; the two of them were by there frequently enough now, either for their run or for the produce stalls, that they were counted among the locals. Tony wondered yet again if this indeed might ultimately become their home – he had not planned on staying long, but this was a simple, comfortable life in pleasant, safe surroundings. Of course, if they _did_ stay, he would need to find something to do to supplement the savings and investments they'd been living on, more to keep him grounded and sane than anything. He wasn't ready to hand Tali over to a sitter or daycare just yet, but maybe when she started pre-school...

Coming back toward their own neighborhood from the opposite direction, Tony pulled on his sunglasses as the morning sun became more insistent, thoughts lost in his plans for Tali's education, his next assault on the Embassy, and his periodic vocabulary practice, calling out in both English and French now the names of things around them to his little parrot in her stroller. They neared the corner, their downstairs café sending its warm scents of coffee and pastries into the street. Just as Tony came across the street and began his turn into their walkway toward their apartment, Tali suddenly cried out, waving her arms and kicking her feet frantically in her stroller.

"Ima! _Imaaa!_ "

Tony slowed abruptly, and heartsick, as he started to come around to her, unsure what caused her sudden outburst. Her nightmares had all but disappeared, and for the past weeks he'd hoped she was past the worst. Looking between his daughter and the café in the morning glare, where she still stared and cried and reached in her agitation, he tried soothing, "No, baby, Ima isn't there, she's n..."

But she _was._

It was like a movie; it was like he had finally lost his senses; it was as if the world suddenly slowed to a snail's pace as he took it all in – but there, at the café, at a table near the corner with a view of the street in all directions, Ziva was slowly standing up from where she'd waited, tears overflowing onto her cheeks as she looked achingly at them.

* * *

 _October 28, 2016_

They called the realtor right there, and gave him an offer to take to the owners, up to a year's lease, with an option to purchase at any time for an amount conservatively below the original quote. After the call was made, they then lingered in the house, curiosity and budding hope making them want to stay just a bit longer. Tony made a show of looking around some more, in the hope that Ziva would, too, as much as she wanted. He wandered off down the hall, then up the stairs, allowing her some distance and alone time with Tali.

He often found himself giving Ziva space and her time with Tali, as it seemed to be what let her relax the most. Guiltily, he wondered if he was simply trying to find an excuse to avoid her, or making up for his initial concern about her stability, and wondered which was harder in all this: not knowing what happened in those years, her insistence that she needed to leave their life at NCIS contradicted by her return to Mossad, her going through a pregnancy alone and her keeping his daughter from him; or seeing the proud, confident, and seemingly fearless ninja nearly as wounded as she had been after months of captivity.

Sudden sounds from the backyard drew him to the window, and he watched his daughter race out across the grass, hand in hand with her mother. Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, he watched the two, a smile warming his features yet again at his daughter's antics and Ziva's doting attention as they played. Tony relaxed with an audible exhale, having jumped this hurdle – finding them a place to live, maybe to settle into life here again, had been the first of his projects for their return. It didn't take long for him to consider – and decide – what should be next.

Tony stood watching for long minutes, as they romped in the grass. When he saw Ziva turn their daughter's attention to moving back inside, he came back through the hallway and on down the stairs. As mother and daughter came inside, Tony smiled down at the toddler, whose cheeks glowed from the cool fall air and her racing from one spot to another. "You like that big back yard, Tali?" he asked. He was sure that the back yard here was only a fraction of the grounds surrounding the homes where both he and Ziva had grown up, but he was just as certain that Tali could have a much happier adolescence than either of her parents did, as long as they each remembered how their own haunted them. He straightened, and said to Ziva, carefully, "sometime soon, I need to let the others know I'm in town. If you aren't ready to let them know you're here, I respect that, but ..." He shrugged. "They love you ... and they think you died. We all went through that before, and it's hell on everyone. I really will try not to push you arm before you're ready, but even if they don't know you're _here_ , in town, they would want to know you're alive. And safe." He watched her, carefully, even as he acquiesced to Tali's tugs on his hands to pick her up. "You know that Jimmy will keep it to himself as long as he's asked, but it's hard on him, keeping it from everyone. He's such an honest guy. Deception just isn't in his nature."

Ziva's earlier ease seemed wane again as she considered Tony's words, and she pulled back into herself again, even if only the smallest bit now. "Perhaps Gibbs already told everyone," she reasoned quietly.

Tony felt a bit of inexplicable relief to hear some hope in her voice at the thought, even though Tony also sensed how hard this might be for her. He smiled sadly as he shook his head. "Doubt it," he said quietly. "He knew we were just now getting our bearings back here. I don't think he would say anything – and it's not like he's the town gossip. Besides, we'd just be a distraction to the team," he added. "He probably wants to put that off as long as he can."

No matter how hard Tony had tried for a casual tone, some of the remaining hurt, even bitterness, was apparent in his response. Since they had arrived, and Ziva learned that the two were estranged, she did not know if she should say anything more about it or not. But Tony still looked so pained when Gibbs was mentioned, and these men were two of the most important people in her world – they had been and still were her _family_ , the only one she had now. When she left, the bond between them had been so strong. Finding herself lifting out of her own pain to touch theirs, she looked her partner in the eye to ask, finally, "what happened between you and Gibbs, Tony?"

He wanted to avoid the whole issue, but something in her manner reached a part of Tony that he had been shutting off for a long time now – his love and yearning and mourning for the _team_ , when they were cohesive and smart and connected and loved their jobs. "I don't even know," he said briefly, not ready to open it all up for fear of mixing his loss of Gibbs' confidence with his loss of Ziva, "but not for lack of trying." He fidgeted for a moment as he looked for a way to explain the time she'd been gone. "He's clammed up more, if you can believe it, every year since you left. I just am pretty sure he won't bring us up." He sighed, straightening, and getting back on topic. "I think the easiest thing is to have someone call the team together, away from NCIS. We won't have to worry about interrupting a case that way – or coordinating with it. Gibbs can come if he wants, or avoid it all if he doesn't. Everyone can say hello and fuss over Tali and ask whatever questions they have – and you know there will be _some_ , at least from Abby. I'll do that alone if you're not ready, or you can be there too. But ... I think it needs to be fairly soon. Abby emails all the time, and ... and Tim's help was critical in my finding Monique, and, ultimately, your finding us. I feel like I'm lying to them, not telling them I'm back."

She stood silently, thinking things over as they watched Tali open and close the lower kitchen cabinets and belly laugh every time she looked inside, apparently surprised and intrigued to find each of them empty. "I should tell them I am here as well," Ziva said softly, her voice even and decisive, "that all three of us are here," she confirmed.

He nodded, his expression carefully neutral around the rush of relief he felt. "If you are ready," he urged. "I'm sorry if I'm forcing your decision. I can do this alone," he repeated his initial offer, a trace of his old stubborn protectiveness surfacing.

Ziva could not tell if it mattered to Tony what her answer might be, other than his concern about sparing her, or sparing Jimmy from having to keep what he knew to himself. His words were no help, either. But there was no benefit in keeping her presence a secret, and, just as he said the team had, _she_ missed her Washington family. "It is time," she concurred.

He managed to nod evenly at her response, hiding the fear he still carried that she might again run sometime in the future. "One of them is bound to ask where we're staying," he went on. "Probably also with whom, given our little third party, here." His serious tone cracked the slightest bit as, yet again, Tali opened a cupboard and chortled at the ridiculousness of an empty pantry. "Some of them may be curious, but I think it's because they've missed you," he said quietly.

"They may be angry that I did not return when you and McGee did," she murmured, her tone carrying her regret.

Tony bit back his response. He'd started to assure her that she didn't have to explain herself to anyone, but realized, fair or not, that an explanation was _precisely_ what he desperately wanted from her. He stared at the floor, trying to even his breath, forcing her months of silence from his thoughts, his months of seeking answers, her continuing inability or refusal to tell him about any of it, his awareness that if he actually _got_ the answers he sought, he could never go back to not knowing – and not knowing might actually be easier to accept than her reasons ...

But, hesitantly, she was adding in the next moment, "maybe they will understand if I tell them that ... _we_ ... have a good deal of catching up to do before we will know the answers to many of their questions."

He glanced back up at her, and saw her, again, as she still was – struggling, broken, but a survivor who this time would hang on to do whatever she needed to do for her daughter's sake. He reminded himself to keep his thoughts in the present, to be thankful she was _alive_ and here, with their daughter, in the States, and not speculate about her life after he left Israel. Too many unacceptable possibilities nibbled at his too-imaginative brain, but the Ziva he saw in front of him reminded him that, whatever happened, a good bit of it must have been against her will, maybe under threat against her or Tali. He promised himself that no matter what, he would work to remember that, whatever hell he might have gone through without her these past months and years, and missing those first years of his daughter's life, Ziva bore all the evidence of having suffered much worse.

He finally nodded. "Are you ready to let them know this soon?"

"No," she blurted immediately, her voice a humorless laugh. "But I never will be. It will be better to face everyone, as soon as possible. Once they know, at least we will not feel as if we must hide from them."

Her choice of words touching something in him again, he offered a small, encouraging smile. "Hey – they're your friends, and they will be far more knocked out with the idea that you're alive and here than anything else. You shouldn't worry about having to _'face'_ them."

"I did, for you," she admitted quietly, eyes cast down. "I still do, sometimes. If not for Tali ... I might not have ever found the courage."

His mouth went dry. There was so much meaning to untangle in those brief words, too much to read in and assume; there was nothing he could say if she could not follow that short pronouncement with the details – _was there?_ "You shouldn't," he managed to repeat, his voice catching. Suddenly awkward, he reached instinctively to lighten the mood. "You know you will always be able to kick my ass."

An emotional, bubbled laugh escaped her, and she looked up to meet his eyes. Once again, relief took him over, as he felt that another small step had been taken toward _normalcy._ She looked self-conscious and a little sad, but less haunted – less _hunted_ – than she had since she returned. "I do not know if that is still true," she apologized.

"I do," he said, meaning it. He wanted to wait here all afternoon, to see if this meant she was suddenly _talking_ , if she would suddenly open up to him. But she said nothing more, waiting, it seemed, for him to take the lead again. So he offered, "maybe later, they will want to know more. But especially this first time – their heads will explode at the fact that you're here. That will keep them busy for a while." He looked for a response or reaction; finding only the same determination he'd seen earlier, when she decided it was time to fill everyone in, he asked, leaving her an out, "you think you're ready?"

She glanced over at Tali once again before nodding and looking up at Tony. "Yes," she offered simply.

He drew a breath, held it, and blew it out slowly. "Okay," he nodded, and showed her a small, game smile. "Let's do this."

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

" _Iiimmaaa..._ " Tali wailed now, arms reaching desperately for her mother. Tony immediately snapped out of his own dazed disbelief to kneel quickly, ignoring the pop of his knee, and unbuckled Tali from her stroller.

"Easy, Tali – Ima's right there." _And she's not going anywhere_ , he ached to tell his daughter, but he knew he could not – not _yet_ , he hoped was all – and watched numbly as his daughter ran the few meters between them, into her mother's arms. Ziva looked as if she would crumble right there, as she too knelt on the pavement to gather Tali to her, whispering aching, guilt-ridden words in her ear. Without a sound, Tony stood up again, eyes not leaving them.

 _Ziva._ He wanted to laugh, wanted to yell, ' _its Goddam Ziva David, back from the dead again!'_ She was indestructible, he thought irrationally; she was probably a vampire or zombie or some other sort of already-dead being. How many times had he lost her? How many times had she come back, little the worse for wear?

Except this time she was gaunt, nearly like Somalia; she looked even more tired and, although her eyes weren't as deadened as they had been in that cell, they were filled with pain and loss, maybe more than he'd ever seen from her. He was immediately reminded yet again of how close to breaking she'd been when he left her behind in Israel. Was this more of the same, or had something else happened?

 _She didn't know where Tali was_ , he realized as she held the child close. _Had she been in hiding – or did she think Tali had died? In the fire, or some other way? Wouldn't she had been looking for her otherwise?_

Forcing himself to put everything else aside, all his questions and uncertainties, Tony stepped closer to them, touching Ziva softly on the shoulder. "C'mon," he said softly. "Let's go inside."

 _ **TBA**_

* * *

 **A/N: AU explanation** : there is one scene for which I have tweaked canon for this story: the basement scene in "Family First" between Tony and Gibbs. As shown, it did not resolve the year of weirdness between Gibbs and Tony for me, so in this fic, I am continuing the difficulty and distance between them while Tony is gone. Here, the somewhat AU basement scene would have pretty much the same dialogue, but a more strained, almost formal aspect to it; they said goodbye, but too much was left unsaid and nothing was resolved, and they were both left with the same lost connection and lack of understanding about who they are to each other as they had all year.

In this story, Tony returns five months since he left, and both men have had time to stew about their relationship. This is not and won't be Gibbs (or anyone) bashing, but it will take some time for Gibbs and Tony to come to terms – as it will for Tony and Ziva. All of these folks are way too complicated and complex to figure things out and fix them quickly!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** All of the follows and favorites are appreciated. For those of you who provided a review, thought, a special thanks. Comments really do help keep the writing flowing, and are very helpful for knowing what works and what doesn't, and if what I have in mind is coming though. My sincere thanks for taking the time to let me know your thoughts.

In this chapter, like the others: to avoid time-travel confusion, watch the dates. :)

 **SEASONS**

 _October 28, 2016_

After another walk around the house they hoped they could soon call home, and another fifty minutes in the car, Tony stood on the steps of the tidy Georgetown townhouse, the Historical Register plaque winking its burnished glow at him in the late afternoon sunlight. With a fortifying breath, he rang the bell and blew on his hands as he waited, bouncing a bit against both his nerves and the fall chill. After a moment he heard a small exclamation of surprise from inside, and he gamely raised his hand to waggle his fingers at the spy-hole in the door. Ducky was beaming as he opened the door quickly.

"Anthony! My boy, how are you? How delightful to see you!" He opened the door wider to urge him inside. "Come in; come in – when did you arrive? And where is that adorable daughter of yours?"

Tony's hand was shaken enthusiastically as he stepped into the front hall, and nearly as quickly he was pulled into a welcoming hug by the doctor. The greeting warmed him and made him relax a bit with his plan. "Hey, Ducky – I'm sorry to just show up like this." Though he knew that the elderly medical examiner still stood on tradition in many things, he'd hoped that in this case, a surprise would be welcome. It appeared it was. Still ... "Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no. Come in – I just got in myself," Ducky insisted. "Don't you look in the pink," he added, with a wide smile at the trimmer, more sun-kissed DiNozzo. "Apparently fatherhood suits you."

"And Paris" Tony smirked. "It's not as hard to chase a two year old around in such a gorgeous city," Tony returned before shifting gears. "Ducky – do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Of course, dear boy," Ducky's demeanor matched his as he sensed DiNozzo becoming a bit more serious. "Would you like a drink? Or a bite to eat; I can make us a bit of dinner..."

"Oh, no; thanks, Ducky. I don't want to put you out. But I sort of abandoned the car," he stepped back toward the door. "I wasn't sure if you'd be free or not. Let me get it parked better and I'll be right back, 'kay? I, uh ... I brought you back something from Paris, still in the car," he baited his host.

"Indeed? How nice of you. Go ahead and park, Anthony, and just come in," the doctor shooed him on his way as he stood at the open door behind him. "I'll see you in the library."

With a nod, Tony turned as Ducky closed the door loosely, feeling far more confident as he trotted back to the perfectly parked rental. Coming closer he gave a thumbs up to Ziva, whom he saw watching him nervously, and he noted that his wordless confirmation to her melted her concerned expression as quickly as Ducky's greeting had eased his own worries. As Ziva got out of the passenger side, Tony deftly retrieved their daughter from her car seat in the back.

They had a favor to ask Ducky they felt should be asked in person, but did not want to bring it up at a bad time or make this an uncomfortable visit. They did not want to put him in an awkward position; each thought that the good doctor would be happy to help, but worried a bit that he would not voice any reservations he might have. Mulling it over as they drove, Tony promised that he would press Ducky to be honest with them and use his years working shoulder to shoulder with him to emphasize its importance to them.

"He seemed really happy to see me. And he asked about Tali," he assured Ziva as she got out of the car. "I think it will be okay," He could see her shoulders relax a little as she let out the breath she'd been holding. She nodded silently, and Tony hoped that he even saw a little anticipation in her expression. Turning toward the house, he waited for her to move before walking alongside of her, back to the house and their waiting friend.

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Tony wouldn't remember later how he managed to get up the stairs, or to let Ziva, still holding Tali close, into the small apartment. He stood by, silently, as Ziva continued to murmur words of comfort and apology and assurance and love to Tali, all in Hebrew as far as he could tell, even as Tali cuddled close, comforted by her mother's presence but clearly unsettled by her mother's upset as well.

Tony couldn't speak. It was almost as if he was watching a movie; he stared at Ziva, at mother and daughter, thinking that he should look away, as if he was intruding on what should be a private moment. The apartment was all but silent as no words passed between the former partners, the only sound the continually whispered words falling from Ziva as she held her daughter close...

 _Ziva..._

Tony found himself sitting, suddenly, as he registered that his knees and hands were shaking. _Ziva._ This time, it was after three years' silence and a daughter between them, but it was _Ziva_ , and yet another wrong call on her "death." He watched his daughter whimpering in her confusion and happiness to have her mother back, watched as his ever-tough ninja, eyes still overflowing and cheeks wet with tears, held her daughter as if she thought she would never see her again ...

She was too thin and almost sallow; she looked small and somehow more frail than he'd ever seen her, even after her captivity. Back then, she looked defeated, emotionless; now, her emotions had no filters and showed her at her most vulnerable. He wanted to comfort her; he wanted to care for her and get her medical attention, if it was what she needed. He wanted to _touch_ her, assure himself that she was real this time. But he was frozen in place, unable to find words. The woman he loved more than anyone, holding the daughter he'd grown to love more than anything ... the daughter she gave him ...

 _... the daughter she hid from him._

He felt his eyes burn suddenly as his vision swam. He sensed, rather than saw, both Ziva and Tali start to calm slightly, their voices and physical contact softening the slightest bit as they each seemed to understand this was real, that they were back together again. Tony felt like he was a trespasser, watching something intensely private, but he could not turn away. _Ziva ..._

"Lo..." He started, his voice catching, husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Look, are you hungry, or need anything? Something to drink?"

For the first time, she lifted her eyes to him, but dropped them immediately and shook her head. He couldn't tell why she would not look at him, and had to force himself to remember that, when he last saw Ziva, she was almost a stranger to him, torn apart as she was by her guilt and self-loathing. He couldn't begin to know what the last three years had brought her. Clamping down on the many competing emotions battering him with the reunion, he stood, knowing he needed a shower, when suddenly, with frightening clarity, he realized that could not leave Ziva alone with his daughter.

 _... I could take a two minute shower and she could be gone, with Tali, and I might never see them again: she knows how to disappear; she knows how to escape and survive with nothing; she knows this city and most of Europe, let alone the Middle East; she probably has 6 different passports for each of them. I could lock her out, tie her up, handcuff her to the chair, take her shoes; she could pick any lock, escape any bindings, slip out of any cuffs, purloin a perfectly fitting pair of shoes in the next block. If I fell asleep she could slip out while I was sleeping; if I bring in someone to watch her, she could overpower them._

In short, if Ziva was inclined to disappear with his daughter, he had absolutely no way to stop her and no way to find them again. Slowly, he sat back down again, overcome by a whole new emotion – dread.

 _... what the hell had he done?_

* * *

 _October 28, 2016_

Tony shifted Tali from his arms to Ziva's at the front door, and opened the door to usher them in ahead of him. As he did, he rapped on the opened door briefly and called, "it's me, Ducky." Shutting the door behind them and coming down the entry hallway, he glanced behind to watch Ziva as she followed him, watching with unexpected amusement as Tali's attention was taken by her new surroundings, her eyes wide and attention swiveling here and there at the high ceilings and crystal light fixtures unlike any she had ever seen. Her father chuckled at the sight as well.

"Expensive tastes at such a young age?" he murmured to Ziva. "Ya gotta admit, it's gonna be hard to know which of us is to blame for _that_."

Even in the uncomfortable circumstances, Tony saw an almost-Ziva-like eye roll from her, and, as with each small moment that the old Ziva seemed to surface, he felt small hope that she was still in there, somewhere...

They neared the library and, nerves pressing more insistently now, Ziva hung back to allow Tony to go ahead and break the ice for her appearance. He stepped in the room and, sensing without looking that she was still in the hallway, went toward the doctor who was straightening from placing another log on the fire. At Tony's appearance, Ducky smiled and immediately lifted two wine glasses he'd placed on the small table near the hearth.

Handing Tony a glass, he lifted the other in a salute to the younger man. "To a very welcome home, my dear Anthony – naturally I have many questions and many hopes for your return, but for now, I am very pleased to see you here and looking so well. May you continue in both."

Tony smiled genuinely, touched, as he allowed the doctor to touch his glass to his own, and took a small sip at his wine as the doctor did. No matter their nerves, he would not be so rude as to refuse to acknowledge the toast and the doctor's kind words. "Thanks, Ducky," he said softly. "It means a lot. And, to be honest, I'm here looking for a favor, so I hope you'll feel the same after you hear me out."

"Of course." Dr. Mallard looked both intrigued and concerned. At his ready support, Tony smiled again, a bit ruefully now as well, as he set down his glass.

"I mentioned a surprise, from Paris," Tony began, and stepped back toward the hall, holding his breath ... and smiled involuntarily as, before he had to go further, Ziva, with Tali still in her arms, walked almost timidly into the room.

"Ohhh, my..." Tony turned to see Ducky, ever in control, but with a stunned expression, as he stared at mother and daughter coming in the room. In the next moment, speechless, the elderly doctor set down his wine glass and walked closer to them, never rushing, almost as if he was approaching a skittish colt. "My dear..." The old man's eyes misted as he came close enough to gently place a hand around Ziva's form and pull the pair of them to him, as carefully as if they might break.

After a moment, Ducky pulled himself together enough speak, releasing her to look at her from arms length. "Anthony, I don't know how you manage it," his voice was husky, yet firm and sure, "but it looks as if once again you have brought our Ziva back from the dead." He never removed his eyes from the woman, his hand still cradling her upper arm. "Ziva, I am so very glad to see you. And, of course, your charming companion." He managed to get his reaction under enough control to smile and gently offer a tiny handshake to a fascinated Tali. "Hello, Tali," he said softly. "I am just as delighted to see you here as I am your parents." In just another moment, he looked to her parents with an apologetic look. "And where are my manners," he chided himself. "Another glass of wine, and ... a small glass of milk, perhaps?"

As Ziva shook her head and declined softly, she glanced up toward Tony, clearly expecting him to take the lead with his plan. He stepped in.

"Ducky, thank you, but we better not stay too long – some of us have had our nap times upended in the past few days and there's no telling when we'll decide to start making that apparent." He felt another wave of relief when he heard a chuckle of complete understanding from their host. "But we ... I ... would like to impose on your good nature." He hesitated another moment, realizing it was a lot to ask, knowing the kindly man would want to do all he could to accommodate their request. "We want to tell everyone that Ziva is back, but ... it just doesn't seem right to show up in the middle of a work day, there on the Yard. We'd probably be interrupting a case or something urgent," he added awkwardly, "And ... I think it would be better to just – tell everyone, at once; not call around and let everyone gossip and wonder and speculate about all the details. So we'd like to get everyone called together, in one place, away from the Navy Yard, and just ... appear, say hello, answer some questions, and ... hope that it will all blow over quickly and let us settle in to being back in town."

Understanding as Tony spoke, Ducky nodded and finished for him, smoothly, "and ... you would like me to call everyone here."

Tony nodded jerkily, clearly concerned about his response. "Yeah. Look, Ducky, if it's too much, or too intrusive, or too tiring or too much hassle, or you just don't want to be involved with such a cockamamie idea, _please_ be honest and just say you'd rather not. It's a lot to ask, and we really would rather you say no if you aren't crazy about the idea. Be honest with me. Please."

Ducky made a sort of 'tut-tut'ing noise before assuring them, "In all honesty I would be _very_ pleased to call a group together for such happy news. _Really_ ," he said firmly, seeing the last uncertainty in DiNozzo's eyes. When his words seem to assure the pair, he ventured, "I do have one question, however."

"What?" Tony shrugged, waiting.

"As Gibbs would normally be the one you would turn to in such circumstances – did he refuse to do this for you?"

Ducky saw Ziva react to that, her surprise at the question lifting her eyebrows. Tony's reaction was not surprise, but more one of guilt. "We ... uh ... we didn't ask him, Ducky. You're the only person we've asked."

He frowned. "You mean that Gibbs isn't aware that you're...?"

Tony shook his head. "He knows we're here, but ... I just wasn't too sure that he'd want any part of this, Ducky. When I left NCIS..." Tony paused, then shrugged again, this time as a part of his well worn mask used to hide his hurt for the past months. "You know. We weren't on the best of terms. I wasn't sure what he'd say, or that he would even want to be there. We've never even talked about Tali, not really, and things weren't all that great even before he knew about our Rule 12 violation." DiNozzo sighed, but then went on, "I know he's relieved that Ziva is back. But even so, I _am_ pretty sure he wouldn't want us to do this in the squad room, and he'd probably be less thrilled if it was in his living room. So ... I thought of you. And also hoped that if you want to pass, too, you'd say."

Ducky sighed, sadly. After a moment's consideration, he nodded. "Of course, I will be happy to handle any arrangements you care to suggest. I am sorry, though, that it is because Gibbs has lost your trust, Anthony..." The doctor saw the recognition in Tony's eyes and his painful attempt to think of a proper denial, so went on, "but I understand. I daresay it may make you feel better to see him here, when invited. As he already knows you are in town – shall I tell him the purpose of the gathering? He can decide if he wants to be a part of the announcement, even if he is already aware of the happy news."

Tony hadn't thought that far. As he frowned, trying to decide how to answer Ducky, Ziva caught the doctor's eye and nodded, so slightly that Tony missed it entirely. At the man's soft smile in agreement, she offered, softly, "Maybe ... whatever you think best, Ducky, when you speak to him?"

Tony seemed to rouse at her voice, glancing to her quickly and then to the doctor. "Would that be okay?"

"Of course," the doctor said smoothly, reminded again yet another reason the new team, and the circumstances leading to it, just didn't feel right. "When would you like this to be?'

Tony glanced to Ziva and, seeing in her eyes that she was still committed to this, said solemnly, "the sooner, the better."

 ** _TBA..._**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has stayed with this, with extra appreciation to those of you who have commented along the way. More on that at the end of this chapter.

For this chapter: I won't remind you to watch the dates (even though you should :))

 **SEASONS**

 _October 24, 2016_

It was if she was waking up from anesthesia. The past months had been desperate and surreal, and on nearly a daily basis Ziva was afraid the final thread would snap, and she would spiral into complete, inescapable madness. She barely registered what she was doing at any given moment and barely understood how she not only had managed to complete the mission she'd been forced to undertake, but had changed the rules to accomplish the bare minimum and escape, more dead than alive. Unwilling to contact anyone at Mossad directly, given Orli's actions and her uncertainly about the lingering results of her mission, Ziva sought refuge with the one person she could trust, whose sources told Ziva that she had been written off and her daughter, dead ...

She had been near enough to losing herself when Tony appeared and sent her further spinning, all those years ago now, leaving her torn between giving in to her feelings for him and his willingness to protect and comfort her, and the insistent internal demand for her penance and repayment for the harm she had inflicted, no matter how unwittingly, as well as the harm her father and brother had brought to so many. She had been near enough to harming herself and her daughter when, upon learning she was pregnant, she thought about ending the pregnancy because she was unworthy and unfit for the miracle that she could even become pregnant after her treatment in Somalia. She had been near enough to obsession with the safety and well-being of her infant daughter, whom she loved with more passion and emotion than she thought was possible, fearing daily how to protect her from her enemies and the evil in her bloodline.

But when Orli appeared one day to demand she resume role from a long-ago mission, using Tali as a tool to force her compliance, Ziva nearly killed the woman where she stood until she understood that Tali had already been taken into her "protection" so her mother could so Mossad's bidding. From that moment forward, Ziva endured and did everything in her power to reunite with her daughter.

... and now, nearly six months later, in this moment, on this sunny corner in bohemian Paris, in a sweet-scented apartment above a neighborhood coffee café, the daughter she had been told was dead was back in her arms.

It was as if she was surfacing, after being underwater too long, holding her breath until she would burst. Ziva pulled back slightly to look at her daughter, to drink her in. Tali was the picture of health, so big and strong, her eyes clear and bright. She palmed the small cheek, brushing away the tears she saw there. For the first time, glancing away only a moment from her daughter's face, she saw Tony.

 _Tony._

It was as if she had forgotten he was there. He responded to her eye contact with uncertainty of his own. "Look, are you hungry, or need anything?" he asked her. "Something to drink?"

Gulping a breath, her first reaction irrational fear of losing Tali again, Ziva pulled her close again, protectively, as she wordlessly shook her head and looked away. She forced herself to slow her breathing, looking for balance. What _had_ registered was that, clearly, Tony had not expected to see her. Amid all her muddled memories of her scramble to get to Paris, once Monique had found her again to tell her that Tali was alive, she remembered her friend's assurances that she had said nothing to Tony, not even the fact that she was alive. Ziva wondered vaguely what exactly Monique _had_ said to him...

It had been three years... three years of unresolved guilt not only for the destruction she had caused others, but for her silence about Tali, keeping her from Tony. Ziva looked at the man who had been her partner for eight years, who had fathered her child, who had managed to get her pregnant when doctors had told her she would never carry a pregnancy to term. He was tanned, fit, handsome; he looked more settled and much more healthy than he had when she last saw him.

He stood, suddenly, not speaking; she couldn't tell what moved him or what he had been thinking before he did, but when he sat back down in only moments, he saw a look on his face she knew she had never seen there before – something akin to fear and to her own sense of loss of these past months.

 _She had brought this on him, she knew. This pain ... this uncertainty. Had he left NCIS because of his sudden parenthood? And was he really here, alone, caring for Tali? He who avoided children as if they carried the plague, who admitted that toddlers were his biggest life fear?_

Ziva looked up at him again, releasing her hold slightly on Tali, and at that moment the toddler suddenly twisted around to look at him, too. "Abba..." she stretched her tiny hands out to him , a sunny, contented smile on her face, as his now-familiar presence assured her that even with her mother's reeling emotions, her big, strong abba was there to protect her. Ziva felt twin daggers of regret and relief plunge into her chest at the sight.

As Ziva watched, Tony's eyes filled again as he managed a carefree, warm smile for their daughter. "Hey, Tali-mae," he crooned, reaching his hand out to her to take hers in his, but he made no move to take her from her mother. His voice cracked; he started to say something else, but unable to speak without losing control, thought better of it. He said nothing more.

Within twenty minutes, in the silent apartment, with both of her parents frozen in place, unspeaking, Tali fell asleep in Ziva's arms.

* * *

 _October 29, 2016_

Abby was burning with curiosity about Ducky's call. Of _course_ she would be there, especially after not only the rare phone call from him, on a Friday evening, no less, but the unexpected request that she come over to his home for a brief get together, and his polite but firm refusal to tell her anything more. Even her insistence that she know whom and how many to expect, so she would bring something appropriate, was met with resistence. When she hung up she immediately called Tim and then Ellie; each had been called and neither had any more information than she did.

She pulled up at the curb at 12:50 and waited until she saw Tim walking up the street from the nearest Metro stop. Popping out of her car, she reached into the backseat, pulled out a large wooden basket, then came around to meet McGee.

"What's that?" he frowned toward her armload in lieu of a greeting.

"Well, Ducky wouldn't tell me who will be here or what it's all about, so I just brought some muffins and fruit."

McGee smirked, affectionately. "You didn't _have_ to bring anything, Abs – you know Ducky; whatever he thinks is needed, he'll have it."

"I'm from the _South_ , McGee," she told him for what had to be the hundredth time. "Our mama raised us not to go to anyone's home without taking a little something." She looked around for any other familiar vehicles, then turned back to him, fairly bouncing. "Well – c'mon, let's go! The suspense is killing me!"

As they neared the front door, Tim conceded, "I gotta admit, this isn't much like Ducky. Wonder what's up?"

Abby gasped and stopped suddenly, turning to Tim with wide eyes. "You don't think he's going to announce his retirement, do you? Ducky _can't_ retire!"

"No – you think?" McGee wondered, then shook his head after a moment. "He sure doesn't seem interested in retiring, and he's healthy and in great shape, as sharp as ever with his work. Why would he retire?"

"He wouldn't."

"Boss!" McGee turned in surprise, wondering that Gibbs could sneak up on them even out on the sidewalk.

"Why not just go on inside so he can get _whatever_ this is started?"

Gibbs moved on past the two and up to the door. While his irritation with events didn't surprise either Tim or Abby, his presence did. "Whoa – even Gibbs came, too?" Abby breathed. "C'mon, Timmy!"

As they walked up the front steps they heard another familiar voice call out, and Ellie jogged up behind them. "You guys know what's going on yet?" She panted. "I got off at the wrong stop and was afraid I'd be late. Ducky was pretty insistent that I be on time."

"With me, too!" Abby replied enthusiastically. "I thought it was just me he said that to."

"Nope," Tim chuckled, knocking lightly as he opened the door, peering in. He heard some conversation from further inside and tipped his head to the others. "Let's see what's up."

The three followed the voices to Ducky's warm, inviting solarium, bright and cheerful as it captured the mild morning sunshine. They found not only Ducky and Gibbs, but Palmer as well. Ducky looked up to see his additional guests and broke away to greet them. "Ah, good morning, all – thank you for being so prompt. Abigail – whatever do you have there? I told you that you needn't bother." He peered in, even peeking under the linen towel she had used to cover the containers.

"I had to, Ducky. Just some muffins and fruit," she minimized.

"Well, that's lovely. Shall I plate them?" He looked up, clearly relaxed, maybe even enjoying himself a little at the drama he'd created.

"Well – you wanted everyone here on time. I could do that if, you know, you need to ... do something else...?" Abby tried.

"No, no ... everything is well in hand," the doctor smiled sweetly. He lifted the basket from her, managing to avoid a chuckle at her expression. Seeing another guest slip in at the last minute, Ducky enthused, "Director!" as Leon Vance stepped into the room, nodding to his host and eliciting a number of surprised responses. Dr. Mallard just beamed, clearly pleased to see him and even more pleased with the reaction. Turning toward his kitchen, Ducky said expansively, "Everyone, please help yourselves – there's both tea and coffee, and a nibble or two while you're waiting." He had to admit to himself he would love to be a fly on the wall to hear what the others had to say as they most certainly would be speculating about what he had planned.

After Ziva and Tony had left the day before, Ducky immediately gave serious thought as to how best to accomplish their request. As he did, and thereafter, as he made his calls to those now assembled, he had time to consider the two very special people who, from all appearances, were coming _home_ to them again. Both of them had been such damaged souls the entire time he'd known them, and both now looked as if they had new injuries and challenges to face as well. Certainly Ziva was in need of care, and no matter how healthy Anthony might look physically, Ducky knew that the past months and years had been unfairly harsh for the man who was far more sensitive to such blows than he wanted others to see.

But with them was their miracle child, a personification of hope if ever there was one – their beautiful, bright, healthy, daughter, and with her appearance Ducky felt a ridiculous amount of relief and promise and joy for them. Not only would Tali give each of them a reason to live and to look to the future, but would let them see, _every day_ , that they could create and nurture life, not only take it; that there was still innocence and beauty in their world, not only the dark sides they had seen in their lives. The more he thought about the little family, even as broken as mother and father still were, and the healing they had ahead, Ducky's enthusiasm for their little surprise grew. He knew their friends would be overjoyed to know that Ziva was alive, and even more thrilled to know they hoped to settle down in the area. To be sure, he also knew he needed to watch Abby, in case her overprotective instincts toward Tony didn't surface again as it had when she learned that Ziva had accused him unfairly, but he would situate himself next to her and would be prepared for such a reaction.

All in all, Dr. Mallard was looking forward to hosting a houseful of very happy people in about five minutes, when Ziva and Tony and Tali were expected to make their appearance. He hoped it would go well when they arrived, but was wise enough to know there might be ... _moments_. Nonetheless, he was irretrievably chipper and quite excited for the reunion, humming a bit to himself as he brought out Abby's addition to his small board of coffee and cakes. Once he was back into the solarium, Jimmy caught his eye, and subtly nodded to his phone.

 _Ah,_ he thought, _the text saying that the guests of honor had arrived?_

Ducky nodded minutely to his young colleague and, as Jimmy slipped out of the room, began speaking as he finished putting out Abby's muffins and fruit plate. "My dear friends," he turned to his co-workers. "I know you have been wondering what this is all about. I have been asked to call you together, and I must say I am delighted to be of service. I can't think of much better news to share with all of you." He paused only for a moment, his eyes suddenly misting slightly, as he looked at the expectant faces around him. Swallowing hard, he tipped his chin up and said, firmly, "Jimmy?"

The room, almost as one, looked over to where Palmer stood at the room's entry, and watched as he looked into the hallway. With a nod and a wide grin, Jimmy stepped back, out of the doorway, as first Tony, then Ziva, Tali in her arms, appeared there, facing them all.

The small group gasped almost in unison before a stunned silence filled the room. Of course it was Tony who spoke first: at the response, he shifted, looked at his girls with an encouraging wink, then turned to the others.

"Uh – hi, guys," he said breezily, lifting his hand in a half wave. "Long time, no see."

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Seeing that Tali was sleeping soundly, a little snore coming from her, Tony stood again. "I can show you her room, if you want to put her in her bed. Or I can take her," he offered, his voice strained.

Ziva did not want to let Tali go, but knew she needed to be reasonable. With more effort than she liked, she stood, yet Tali did not stir in her arms. Finally, once again managing to meet Tony's eyes, she spoke to him for the first time in over three years, in raspy, raw voice. "May I ... see her room?"

Tony was mesmerized. All the questions, all the history, all the time that had passed with no contact – and what he now saw in her _flayed_ him. Even in Somalia she had retained some of her pride: as she claimed she was ready to die, her fighting spirit surfaced to tacitly insist it was on her terms, not Saleem's theft of her life. He had seen her warm and teasing, cold and angry; exasperated with him and affectionate with him and, more recently, so tormented with her past that she was not entirely rational. But now – even though her daughter was back in her arms, he had never seen her so defeated. She looked beaten, her eyes those of one who had given up long before.

He suddenly came to himself again, and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "Sure," Tony said softly, and tipped his head toward the hall as he started moving, "It's back here."

She followed, silently, and, upon entering, paused slightly as she took in her daughter's bedroom for the first time. In the next moment, however, crossed to Tali's crib and, shifting her slightly, kissed her forehead, softly, for many long moments.

 _As if she feared she would never see her again,_ Tony suddenly thought, wondering what she must have been through in the past weeks, without Tali.

"She'll probably be out for an hour, at least, probably two," Tony offered. "She's a pretty early riser and she gets sleepy sometimes after a run." He saw that Ziva had a hard time tearing her eyes away from her, and felt compelled to offer, voice still low so as not to disturb Tali, "she's okay, Ziva. She's crazy healthy. Good appetite, good humor. She ... she's missed you," he added, his voice suddenly cracking for a moment when he remembered her bad dreams and her crying inconsolably for her mother. Seeing the dark eyes well up and spill over at his words, he added, quickly, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to upset you. I just ... thought you should know that Tali missed her mom."

Ziva trembled, slightly, as if cold. "She is too young to have understood why I was gone, no matter what anyone told her."

Tony nodded, but he looked at her closely, looking for more. His shock at her appearance and uncertainty at what he saw in her was fading, replaced by his need to know what had happened with her, what had happened over the last years and months – and why she had not told him he was a father. "What _happened_ , Ziva? All this time – the reports of your rejoining Mossad, the explosion..."

"Please, Tony," she whispered, eyes filling, voice breaking. "I cannot talk about it."

He blinked, not expecting her refusal. " _Any_ of it?" he asked, incredulous. "I just want to understand..."

"You cannot, because _I_ cannot." Ziva shook her head, clearly upset.

"C'mon," Tony glanced at Tali's crib. "Let's let her sleep, and we can talk out in the ..."

"I cannot leave her – not yet. _Please_ ," she begged, the sound of her breaking his heart. "I thought ..." she gulped, "I thought she was _dead_ , Tony, and I ... _knew_ ... that it was my punishment for taking Ari from Deena, for taking the brothers or sisters of so many more. Even just these last months ..." She tried to gather herself, still struggling. "Don't make me leave her yet."

Tony tried to imagine the hell that just her belief alone would have been for her. Reflecting on the sudden fear that had just overwhelmed him to think he might be separated from Tali and the grief that overwhelmed him when he thought Ziva was lost to him forever – he knew he couldn't pretend to guess what she had just suffered. "Okay," he nodded. "Okay."

He took a couple steps backward, then left the room. His thoughts pressed, trying to overwhelm him all over again, but Tony knew that _some_ one needed to be in control here, and apparently it needed to be him. Deciding on the first order of business, he went to the kitchen and pulled out some things – some bread and cheese, a couple pears he'd gotten yesterday, some milk, and put them all on a tray. Five minutes later, he returned to find Ziva still standing by the bed, watching their daughter as she slept, her hand resting on Tali's back as if just to feel her breathing.

"Hey. C'mon," Tony said quietly. "I bet you haven't eaten yet today." He walked over to set down the tray on a small side table. Watching Ziva for several moments, and seeing that she seemed to have shut him out of her thoughts again, her eyes only for Tali, Tony straightened. Finding the old masks he didn't know he still had, Tony knew he needed to put all his questions and hurt aside for now, and to start thinking about what lay ahead for them all. Ziva wasn't in any shape to do much thinking about any of this, not yet. He needed to carry them both for a while.

Unbidden, a line came back to him from one of the best movies of all time, _Casablanca._ It was the one that came immediately before the most famous line of the film, when Isla said, "Oh, I don't know what's right any longer. You have to think for both of us. For all of us." Hers was that line that Rick answered by saying, "All right, I will. Here's looking at you, kid."

Tony looked long at mother and daughter, knowing, no matter how much it killed him to wait even longer, he had to give Ziva time to heal, to feel safe, especially if she was still just processing the fact that Tali was actually alive – and he of all people should know how _that_ particular emotional bomb felt. If ever he hoped for Ziva to explain, she needed time, and safety, and support.

He had some plans to make – he'd work out some ideas, and some alternatives, and see what she thought. Silently, he crossed to the doorway before he paused, turning again to look at his partner of so many years, the mother of his child ... the one woman he realized long ago was the someone in this life whom he would be happy to have as a partner in every single aspect of his life.

As he shut the door behind him, leaving his two girls to themselves, he vowed softly, "Here's looking at you, kid."

 ** _TBC..._**

* * *

 **Plot point A/N:** unlike TPTB and many fanfic writers, I just don't see Mossad or its actors as evil incarnate. However, for this story and my need for a bit of evil, Machiavellian action, circumstances made Orli a prime OCC target. I've never quite trusted her, anyway.

 **Review related A/N:** reviews can be amazingly informative, even for what they _don't_ say: I dropped what I thought was a big bomb in the last chapter and held my breath, fairly nervously, to see what the responses would be – yet none of the comments for that chapter have even mentioned the scene. So what I thought was significant, something I'd never seen voiced in fanfic before (and a bit scenery-chewing too, I admit), apparently didn't really stand out as unusual. Also, apparently, it was within character enough that it wasn't worth pointing out as off the mark. Live and learn!

I mention this only to show how helpful and informative reviews can be, given what is and isn't said in them. I hope you'll continue (or start!) to let me know your thoughts.

 **Slight correction A/N:** it's not just "one of the best movies of all time" – _Casablanca_ is, hands down, _the_ best movie ever. _Ever._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Everyone still coming, thank you, and more thanks to those who have reviewed. I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to most of you recently, but for now when I have time to get back here I am adding to the story.

For this chapter: more bouncing from an earlier date to later, but as in recent chapters, just one shift midway through.

 **SEASONS**

 _October 24, 2016_

As soon as Tony closed the door behind him, leaving Ziva with a napping Tali, he went to his closet, pulled out a change of clothes, and headed to the shower to take what might have been the fastest shower in his life. He hated thinking again that it afforded Ziva a chance to slip out with Tali, and he might not ever see them again, but facts were facts. It also was a fact that Ziva had not been herself when he last saw her, three years before, and what he'd seen in these past several minutes told him she had been under severe physical and emotional duress in recent weeks. Had it been about only Ziva, he would have been hurt all over again were she to disappear, and he'd worry about her, but trust that she was capable of fending for herself.

But it wasn't "only Ziva" any more.

Maybe he hadn't been a father for long, and hadn't acted as Tali's parent as long as Ziva had. But _that_ wasn't his fault, and he had damned well stepped up. And over the past six months, he had formed a bond with his daughter that still left him stunned with its intensity. The only thing he knew to do until he could get a better read on Ziva was to fall back into protection-detail mode once again, forcing himself to register facts and possibilities, without speculating about her motivations beyond what might be needed for that assessment. He did not want to think the worst of Ziva, but could not afford to give her the benefit of every doubt. The safest thing was to avoid both and stick with his training.

So it was a grim, focused Tony who showered quickly, bathroom door open slightly to hear as much as he could any moment the water wasn't on, who barely toweled off before pulling on his clothes and moving down the hall to open Tali's door quietly.

Ziva hadn't moved. She glanced up at the sound of the door only long enough to confirm it wasn't an intruder.

The overwhelming relief Tony felt threw him another moment of guilt, but he ignored it, unwilling to relax until he had a better sense of Ziva's intentions and current status. The intensity of her response when he last saw her had rattled him, and he would not forget it easily. Even so, for several reasons – including her recent suffering, whatever had happened – he also would try his best not to let Ziva see his doubts.

He stepped in the room, coming to stand beside his former partner, not saying anything for several moments as, together, they watched their sleeping child. "Jimmy and Breena had a baby last year – Victoria, for Ducky's mother," he finally said, softly. "Between his being a father now, _and_ a doctor, Jimmy has been a life saver, any time I had a question. Breena, too." Ziva did not respond, almost as if she didn't know he was there. He was quiet again for another couple minutes, then glanced to the food he'd brought in, still untouched. "Usually, after a run in the morning we hang out here for a while, then after a little lunch we go out – usually to the park, and a walk somewhere. If we don't have some specific errand, we just walk." It suddenly dawned on him that she had appeared only with a small backpack – were those her only belongings now? "Hey – you didn't have a bag. Do you need anything? Clothes, or something?"

She was quiet long enough that he wondered if she was going to reply, but she finally said, "I have a larger backpack, with some things. It is at the train station."

"That's all you have left?" He turned to her, frowning his concern. "With the explosion..."

Finally, she looked back up to him for a moment, as if weighing his meaning, then glanced away, back to Tali. "Most of our clothing or personal items were there, so, yes, they are gone. But none of it was irreplaceable or particularly valuable. Important documents or accounts are online, many also in a safety deposit box. Older or more ... sentimental things ... are in Eli's home in Tel Aviv. I kept it, too."

Tony wasn't sure what to make of the flat sound of her words, the empty sound of her, following so soon after her emotional pleas not to leave Tali's side. Reminding himself again to register it and move on for now, he suggested, "we can go to the station and get your backpack, if you want. The weather has been getting chilly here lately. Do you need warmer clothes? Tali needed a coat and some warmer clothes after we got here."

"I am fine," she murmured, without thinking.

With just as immediate a reaction, Tony blurted suddenly, "no, you're not! _Ziva_..." he began to plead, but when he saw only a small flinch from her, he kicked himself for his inability to focus on keeping it together until he got a better sense of exactly what was going on with her at the moment. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm concerned about you," he managed a softer, more even tone. "Are you sick, or injured?"

She shook her head slowly, never taking her eyes off Tali. "No," she finally said.

He stepped back a step, working to bottle up any trace of worry or frustration as he admitted to himself that his attempts at connecting with her weren't going anywhere. "Okay." He hesitated only another moment before finally turning and leaving the room again. When the door snicked shut, quietly, Ziva's breath hitched, and another tear collected in the corner of her eye, but she continued to stand quietly at Tali's bedside, watching her beautiful girl sleep, peacefully and deeply.

 _October 29, 2016_

Tony would think later that the genius he showed in asking Ducky to bring everyone together was just dumb luck. He would have asked Gibbs before things had gotten so off-kilter between them, and he thought of Ducky mostly because, other than Gibbs, the team was more likely to come if he asked than for anyone else. The fact he had the largest space outside of the NCIS building of any of them was also a plus. But for so many reasons, the gathering at the doctor's home, with the garrulous medical examiner in his element as host, moderator and facilitator, could not have been a better reunion for both of them. What could have been awkward or out of control or even emotionally harmful, especially for Ziva, was joyful but civilized, the surroundings and their owner coloring each person's normal response with an unconscious decorum. The fact that they were all in one room – so all there to witness to any knee-jerk response or unthinking comment – didn't hurt.

So maybe their surprise appearance smacked of something out of one of Tony's movies. But not only did he really think it easier on everyone to just get it all done at once, the past few days – hell, the past few _years_ – had been melodrama to rival any tear-jerker out of the 1940's. He knew he could have gone for a wow opening line when they burst in on the party, but it had been his idea to surprise everyone at once, and he desperately wanted things to go well, and smoothly, for Ziva. Tony knew that _he_ would be welcomed back, and that Tali would be all but adopted by every person there. But Ziva's absence, and silence, might have become personal for anyone in the group, who had accepted her as family.

Tony fought those feelings on a daily basis since Ziva appeared in Paris, and knew his questions were legitimate. But as the hours and days passed since Ziva appeared in Paris, he was more concerned about the abuse she had suffered both recently and over time. In the tiniest of increments, she seemed to begin to relax, however slightly; she was still cautious and almost fearful of what lay ahead, even moment to moment, but appeared to be more readily trust his words or plans. Tony hung all his hopes on those tiny changes: his hopes for their remaining in the U.S., for Tali to have a normal mother-daughter relationship with a mother who was healthy in body and mind, for the two of them to relate to each other as parents. Maybe after that, when things settled down, he could get the answers he needed to hear, so he could at least try to understand why he had missed her pregnancy, his daughter's birth, and her first two years of life.

When they arrived at Ducky's, the reactions around the room had been pretty much what he would have hoped for. Of the three who knew they were back, Ducky smiled like a proud grandparent, and Jimmy's pleased look was a broad beam much like his mentor's. Gibbs, ever Gibbs, stood by with an unreadable expression, watching the others. As for the others, Abby leapt to her feet, her hands covering her mouth, but not a peep came from her, and she stood rooted in place, taking them all in. The Director didn't react immediately upon seeing Tony, but at Ziva's appearance, he stood straighter, stunned to see her back from the dead yet again. Bishop blinked, then slowly grinned, happy to see Tony, her eyes rounding in curiosity as she recognized immediately, from her photo, who it was who came in with him. But McGee, his expression changing from stunned surprise to delight, was the first to move.

"Ziva," he said softly, approaching her with a wide smile, his arms raising for a hug until her physical condition registered on him, and he saw the wariness in her eyes amid all the other emotions there. To his credit, though, Tim came close but stopped a good foot away, his hands raising to barely brush Ziva's forearms as she held Tali, speaking only to Ziva, as if no one else was in the room. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

She managed a wan smile and the wariness settled a little. "Thank you, McG ... Tim." After a small hesitation, she added, "Tony told me how helpful you were, that you found the contact number for Monique. Thank you for that. I ... do not know if we would have found each other, otherwise."

"Yeah, you would," Tim assured her immediately, his tone sagely certain. He turned to the youngest in the room, who suddenly ducked her head shyly into her mother's neck. "Hi, Tali," Tim said softly. "Remember me? Uncle McUncle?" At Ziva's look of surprise and rusty glimmer of amusement, he smirked. "What, Tony didn't mention that?" Tim looked at Tony, who waited more quietly and patiently than anyone would have imagined from him. "Great to see you, Tony."

"Hey, Tim," he managed, before the two were hugging again as they had at the Paris airport.

With the ice broken, the others came closer for their own greetings – Abby had taken uncharacteristically timid steps toward Ziva, even more carefully than when Ziva had returned from Somalia. Of course, then, she had known Ziva was returning, since the Director had gotten word from the team. This time, still stunned, Abby was not all that sure she wasn't dreaming. "Ziva..." The husky voice broke as the taller woman approached her friend, her eyes brimming with tears. "Is it really you? You're a _mother?_ "

At that, Ducky's ears pricked up, and he wondered if he should be standing by closer – there were some occasions that the woman's reactions were simply far from the expected path, and he didn't think either Ziva or Anthony deserved an unhinged welcome, even from Abby.

But at the unexpected greeting, Ziva laughed in a small gulp and nodded. "Yes, Abby – it is me. And ... yes. I suppose I am a mother."

Abby's tears spilled over and, to the surprise of everyone there, she didn't crush Ziva in a hug or even demand that she give her one; instead, she lifted a hand to stroke Tali's curls, gently. "Tali is so beautiful, Ziva," she nodded, as she and the child made eye contact. "She looks even more like you than when she was here last May."

"Thank you, Abby," Ziva said softly, clearly including far more than only the compliment for her child.

Bishop had approached Tony from the other side and have him a quick hug, welcoming him back, before siding up to Abby, who apparently sensed the difference in Ziva that Tony had seen, and was speaking less animatedly and more gently than Tony would have anticipated. As Abby introduced Bishop to her predecessor, Director Vance came up to Tony and offered his hand. Tony took it, and the Director shook it firmly before adding a firm pat on Tony's bicep with his left. "Gotta say, DiNozzo, the last time was pretty damn impressive. Didn't know you had another one in you."

He received a small but very genuine grin in response. As Tony shook his head, glancing quickly to Ziva and back, Tony admitted, "neither did I, Sir. Both times Tim did all the legwork to get us the info we needed to make it happen."

"I'm aware of what you both accomplished, Agent DiNozzo," Vance smirked.

"Not an 'agent' any more, Director."

"Hmm. Can you stop by sometime in the next week or so?"

Tony looked uncertain. "Director, I meant what I said when I left, and under the circumstances, I still have the same concerns. Now that I have Tali to consider..."

"I understand," the Director seemed to brush off any confusion. "Just some paperwork to clear up." The Director's outward demeanor was completely placid and reassuring, and DiNozzo didn't believe for a second that paperwork was all there was to his request.

Tony's eyes narrowed at the taciturn face. "You've got a better poker face than Gibbs does."

Vance chuckled. "Why do you think _I'm_ Director and not Gibbs?"

"I can think of several reasons."

"Good point." The Director tipped his head toward the taller man. "Glad you're back on this side of the Atlantic. I need to say hello to Ziva then get back, but give Pamela a call. Sometime this week."

"Yes, Sir," Tony agreed as the other man moved off, wondering what the Director had up his sleeve. He turned to watch as Ducky neared the group clustered around Ziva, herding everyone over to sit and asking Abby's help in bringing the guests of honor some refreshments. Tony found himself smiling to be back, welcomed by the family he'd found at NCIS a decade and a half ago, and comforted that they all were delighted to have Ziva back with them, accepting things at face value for now and all apparently sensing that it wasn't the right time to push.

At Tony's elbow, his host came up to offer him a cup of coffee and a hopeful grin. "Well. Things seem to be sorting themselves out nicely, don't they?

Looking down to the twinking blue eyes, Tony grinned a wider, more relaxed smile than he had in quite a while, and taking the coffee, looped his free arm around the older man. "That they do, Ducky – thank you for all this. I don't think it could have gone better."

"My pleasure, Anthony. My very great pleasure, indeed."

 **TBC**

 **A/N** : I know this installment may have too much internal monologue for some tastes, but in these chapters there are two aspects of the story that I want to address. The first is how fragile Ziva's mental state is here (and, as I have asserted a few times in this story, how fragile TPTB made her in Israel, when she started freaking out about all the lives she ruined as a consequence of carrying out her orders). The second is Tony processing all the info dumped on him in MW's last episode, which was just the icing on the cake that was Gibbs & Tony during S13, which followed the gradual shifting of their relationship starting several seasons earlier.

To address these things, especially since this Ziva is keeping pretty mum about it all, I decided to get into Tony's head to let us see both of these factors for now, at least from his POV. Without giving too much away, and as is peeking through in the Washington scenes, Tony won't have to do a solo much longer.

As with any of this or my other stories, all comments welcomed, even any that say this was a bad idea (but telling me why would be helpful ...)


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the interest, support and comments! I apologize for not replying individually, but my keyboard time that isn't work related is still limited these days. I really do appreciate hearing from people about what works in the story and what doesn't. Reviews always remind me that, for better or worse, I have no ability to predict what people will or won't like, but as long as _something_ is working for readers, I'll keep posting. :)

Time shifting: still bouncing between recent past & their present.

 **SHORT ABSENCE ALERT :** so far, I have been able to update almost weekly. Due to real life work requirements for the next, upcoming posting weekend and a long weekend getaway to the mountains the next (yay!), this will not likely be updated again until mid-October. I know I have other WIPs that petered out so just wanted to assure those who have been so faithful in reading that it's just a scheduling thing with this story rather than a sudden loss of motivation.

 **SEASONS**

 _October 29, 2016_

As Director Vance walked over to speak with Ziva, Tony knew he had only these few minutes left before the Director left that the whole group would be together, so excused himself from Ducky, and walked over toward the sofa where Ziva and Tali were the center of attention.

"Hey," he started clumsily, trying to ignore the 'Gibbs' glare' that had followed him since they arrived. Raising his voice slightly over the conversations to get everyone's attention, Tony offered an awkward grin when they all looked to him. "Before the Director has to leave ... while you're all still here ..." He glanced to Ziva. She looked a little tired, but he could tell she was more relaxed than she had been when they came, so knew the visit was going well for her. Their eyes met; he raised his eyebrows in a silent question. He saw a small smile in return. He had said if things went well he would like to fill everyone in on things, and she had concurred. It appeared that she was having a good visit as well.

"This isn't a speech, I promise. Ducky – thank you for getting everyone here, so we can just let everyone know what's going on, all at once." He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how best to say what he needed to say. "I know you all probably have questions – some of you more than others," he looked at Abby in an affectionate jibe, "but right now, we don't have too many answers. We all just found each other five days ago." The reactions he saw didn't surprise him, and he hoped this would help them understand what he was about to say. "We haven't had time to figure out much of anything yet, but we did decide on a few basic things. First, and most important – we agreed that the best and safest place right now for Tali is here, in the States. And if we were going to come back to the U.S., it would make the most sense to come back to where things are familiar. To _family_ ," he emphasized. "That was first, and so we hopped a plane, and here we are."

Tony took a breath, and let it sink in with the group that he was being literal about how much was still up in the air for them. "Now that we're here, we all needed a place to live. You all know that both Ziva and I lost our mothers too young, and had often ... _absent_ ... fathers. We didn't want that for our daughter. So ... we just got a house." At Abby's deep inhale, her eyes widening and her face beginning to light up, Tony cautioned, "but I meant it when I said we haven't talked about _anything_ yet. We were partners for eight years, but haven't seen each other for three. For now, we're relying on the fact that we were good partners in the field." He shrugged, looking for their understanding. "It's as if McGee and I got a house," he explained, with a shrug.

"Except that would never happen," McGee drawled.

Tony rolled his eyes at the sudden laughter the comment elicited, but nodded to Tim in thanks. "Good point," he conceded. "Look – we want to see all of you. You're _family_ ," Tony repeated. "But there's a lot that Ziva and I need to catch up on and discuss. Please, just ..." He looked around and saw everyone watching him, reflecting his seriousness, and he said simply, "please let _us_ do that. None of you would ever intend to get in the middle of any of this, but ... it might take a lot of time and a lot of discussion before we have everything figured out." He looked over at Ziva, and seeing her dark eyes on him, and the small measure of trust starting to reappear there, he breathed, "and I don't want to rush things or mess things up." He suddenly was aware again of all the other eyes on him, too, and discomfort pricking at him, added,"I'm going from having a place of my own to sharing it with _two_ ninjas. I'm going to need all the patience you can show me."

Tony glanced back to Ziva, who dropped her gaze, leaning forward slightly to drop a light kiss on Tali's head – but who was still smiling, still relaxed – and thought he at least hadn't messed up things too badly.

Abby, transparent as always, was a little disappointed that there had not been a great, romantic announcement, but to her credit, said as genuinely and happily as DiNozzo had ever heard her, "but a house! It means you are back, at least for a while. _All_ of you."

Tony watched Ziva for her reaction to Abby's words, and as he saw her look up to Abby, held his breath. Consciously or not, the room joined him.

"We are," she said to Abby softly, brushing Tali's hair softly as the child sat on her knee, watching all the adults around her and starting to warm up to the room herself. "Aren't we, Tali?"

At that, the toddler made it clear whose child she was. At her cue, Tali spread her arms wide, flashed a wide DiNozzo smile, and announced, "Yes!"

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Tony left Ziva in Tali's room. As everything started to catch up with him, he wandered out and sat down in his small living room, wind knocked out of him.

 _All this time, all the searching, and now ... Ziva. Alive, and – here. Now what?_ So many new questions arose, seeing her – how was she, really? Where was she living? What was going on with her now? Was she simply trying to recover from whatever had put her in this condition and had forced her to leave Tali? Did she have a whole new life established, or was she just living day to day, or was it something in between?

He leaned forward, his head in his hands for a moment, then slowly rubbed his hands over his face. She was barely responding to him, when she responded at all, and he had no way to know what part of that was intentional, and what was due to whatever her condition was now. No matter why she was like this, and whatever might work to fix it, he was certain that pressing her for responses now would not get him answers. It might even do more damage. Whether it would mean just a longer lasting refusal to talk, or cause a permanent mental retreat from him, his gut told him it would make things worse.

He needed time to think things through, and if _he_ did, he knew damn well she did, too. Clearly she was in rough shape, but just _how_ rough was hard to tell. Given the understandable emotions of the moment, it might be less permanent than he feared, but there was no way to know for sure, or how long it would take. He was way, way over his head, but knew that even in the best of times, Ziva David would not submit to the physical and mental health help she most certainly needed right now. He felt increasing helpless to know what to do for her, and a rising anxiety about what effect her current state might have on Tali.

He stood again, then paced, trying to think things through.

 _Okay. You can do this,_ he lectured himself.

It wouldn't be the first time that he buried his feelings to get things done. And it hadn't always been about a woman, certainly not always about Ziva – but it usually was, he reminded himself with a mental snort.

 _And it's been about Ziva more than it has for other women, and she's alive, and if nothing else she was your partner and you swore to have her back, no matter what._

He really had to stop 'swearing,' he noted to himself ruefully.

He leaned on the windowsill in the kitchen, staring out along the colorful street below. He'd run off to the Middle East, then Europe, without a plan and without the first clue how to care for a child, but with a toddler he'd just met in tow. Turns out, he accomplished his purpose in all that.

He sighed, and leaned his forehead on the cool glass pane of the window. _And after all that, coming up with a plan for what comes next should be a piece of cake._

* * *

 _October 29, 2016_

He wondered when it would happen. Tony knew he hadn't had time to think about Gibbs, much less stop by for a visit, and with the team's usual schedule, Gibbs probably wasn't around to chit-chat anyway. But from the time they'd arrived at Ducky's house, Tony was painfully conscious of Gibbs' presence, how he hung back, just watching, while everyone else was bursting with their appearance, fussing over Tali and bubbling with excitement in speaking with Ziva and expressing their relief that he was back. It was typical Gibbs, certainly, but the more he thought about it, the more it got under Tony's skin.

 _Okay, so Ducky and Palmer kept out of the way a bit, too_ , he'd noted, since they too knew of their arrival before the others did, but the doctors still chatted and participated and seemed happy to have them there. But even if Gibbs wasn't there for him, couldn't he show Ziva he was happy to have her back? They'd had a special bond while she was on the team; was he going to be so petty as to end that now, too? Gibbs must have seen how battered she'd been, when she'd gone to see him; he couldn't have missed it. So would it kill Gibbs to go over and speak to her now?

 _Was it because she was holding Tali?_ he found himself wondering.

Tony glanced at his watch. They'd been at Ducky's for about forty minutes; before they arrived, he and Ziva agreed they should work to keep their gathering to an hour or less. More would be overwhelming for Tali, if not for Ziva too, and he didn't want to overstay Ducky's gracious invitation. Looking for a way to ease the party to a close, Tony went to the buffet and, in a fit of domestic inspiration, started to clear it of the empty platters and drained tea pot. Four steps into the kitchen, he'd discovered he'd been cornered.

Deep down, Tony had known that, like the sniper he'd been, Gibbs had been waiting for the right moment. _Figures it was when the weak member had moved off from the herd,_ Tony snorted to himself.

He put down the things he carried and turned, starting back the way he came. "Gibbs," Tony nodded brusquely as he passed his former boss, who had followed his lead and grabbed a few empty plates and cups. He was a bit surprised that Gibbs didn't stop him, but there was more to be cleared from the buffet, and DiNozzo figured Gibbs' plan had been to see if he would cave at his appearance and babble out apologies for anything he'd ever done and half the things he had not. If he managed not to spill his guts, Gibbs would hold position and take action next round.

Tony walked back into the kitchen with another stack of plates and platters, and saw Gibbs shift his weight from one foot to both, equally balanced, an unconscious preparation for a confrontation. Tony sighed at his dead-on prediction. _Well, being partners for over a decade makes it pretty easy to predict the man..._

He said nothing as he went to the sink a second time. Putting his load down, DiNozzo stood at the sink, waiting. The past five days had been enough; he didn't have the energy to deal with Gibbs, but he knew an attempted escape would simply poke the bear.

He didn't have long to wait. "Bought a house, or rented?"

"Both." Tony stared into the sink, seeing without seeing the items he'd put there. "There's a title glitch they expect to clear up, but it will take a while. We're renting until that's fixed."

"First option?"

Tony just kept his eyes down, refusing to react. Was Gibbs baiting him, or just curious, or testing him? _Gibbs is never just curious_ , he told himself. It was such a small thing, but the question got up in his personal space, just as Gibbs would do physically in other circumstances, and made its accusation in a big way. "I didn't request it, but the seller is making it first option," Tony ground out evenly. "So, no," he turned to look at Gibbs, deciding at that moment that he needed to let Gibbs know he _got_ the dig. "It's _not_ a firm commitment to buy yet, as far as the seller is concerned. However, it _is_ for me."

"What about Ziva?"

Tony straightened, turning to look his former boss in the eye. "As I said in there – I don't know. You can ask her. Her name will be on it, though, however it works out. Whether it's a home for me, or for all three of us, it will be a home for _Tali._ "

The frosty blue eyes that he'd given up trying to read many months ago held his gaze, but Tony was too tired, too emotionally wrung out – and too bruised by Gibbs over the last months he worked for the man – to be intimidated.

"Thought you'd stop by again by now."

Tony didn't know if Gibbs was switching gears to throw him off balance or if he really had hoped for a visit. He found himself thinking that if Gibbs _had_ cared, he might have seen or heard more from the man when he'd been told Ziva had died – or that they'd had a daughter together – or that he was leaving the team, and NCIS, and law enforcement ...

At the involuntary stab of pain that memory caused him, and the quick burn in his eyes, Tony mentally smacked himself sharply. _Guess you can never be too tired to let him still get to you._ Tony couldn't trust his voice to speak, so did not.

Apparently, a silent DiNozzo was more than even Gibbs could take, because after another moment, he took a step closer, and said quietly, firmly, "you know, you could have stayed with me. All of you. Still can."

At that, something broke loose in Anthony Dinozzo. Whether it was the lack of sleep, the stress, all the changes going on ... the return to his old life that would never be as it had been ... he blinked, just as if he'd been headslapped. "No, actually, I didn't. How could I possibly know _that_?"

Gibbs frowned, clearly not expecting his response and not getting it for the moment. When it sunk in, he snorted dismissively. "When have you ever been locked out, DiNozzo?"

"This year?" Tony shot back, "or since Ziva came back the _first_ time?"

His quick, biting response appeared to land a blow, and he allowed himself to wonder if maybe the Boss _did_ know how he'd come off to him since then – and Tony wasn't sure if that would make things better or worse. When Gibbs didn't reply right away, Tony took a deep breath and went on, his voice low. "Look, if you really want to have this out, fine, we will. But not here, not now. Not in Ducky's home, not after we asked him to do this as a favor."

Gibbs wavered, but could not fault Tony's reason for refusing to continue things right then. "Ziva said she'd stop by again."

"I know. I'm sure she will, when things settle a bit. It's been a bit hectic," he added, unable to keep all traces of sarcasm out of his voice.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, looking for all the world like he'd expected to find Tony, but had run into a stranger instead. _'What have you done with DiNozzo?'_ Tony could just imagine him saying. But instead, Gibbs actually grunted, "you could come too, ya know."

"I'll wait until you're ready to see Tali, too. Whether you like it or not, Gibbs, she's our child, and that's a pretty permanent thing."

" _What?"_ Gibbs responded with a flash of ire that was too quick not to be defensive. "I never said a damn thing about her!"

"Oh, believe me, I noticed." Tony hadn't intended to bring this up, but everything had changed, so completely and dramatically. If Gibbs thought things could just go along as they had – well, it was Tony's job to make sure he understood he could not. Voice low, he leveled at Gibbs, "I don't recall your wanting to see Tali when Orli brought her to NCIS. _Ziva's_ child, Gibbs, and you never once even _saw_ her. I mean, you were the one who wrangled all those kids, over the years, all the child witnesses or victims. You adopted Mike Frank's granddaughter like she was your own. You were the magic man, the child whisperer – but you never even _asked_ to see Tali."

The words seemed to land a punch, but Gibbs said nothing, and Tony suddenly didn't have the first guess about what was going through his head. It didn't matter, though: there was no reason that could justify for Tony Gibbs' apparent rejection of Tali, especially if it was just because of who her parents were and why Gibbs thought they should not have been together. And no matter how much it hurt to be shut out by his mentor, it was nothing compared to Gibbs' failure to even acknowledge his beautiful little girl.

DiNozzo turned and walked toward the door. "We decided that we didn't want to stretch this past an hour," he managed, flatly. "I'm going to go thank Ducky and get everyone on their way."

Behind him, a stony, still-stunned Gibbs stood in place, wondering at how different things had become between him and his ever-loyal second – and at how he had allowed events to waylay him from taking even a few precious minutes for the daughter of two people who, not so long ago, were among the most important people in his world.

 _To be continued..._ (in mid October! see A/N, above...) _  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay – October was more involved than I thought! Thanks to everyone for their reviews and comments, as always, but a special thanks to those of you checking in to see when the next installment was coming. I can't promise I will be able to update every week as I have for most of this, but I'm still obsessed with this story and will do my best not to let so much time go by between updates.

Comments, pro and con, always helpful and serve as great motivation to get back to the next installment. It's nice to know that people out there are rooting for them to get through this.

Reminder #1: Remember what a character thinks or believes may not be "true" in the story: it may be a misunderstanding, incorrect guess, or over-reaction due to physical or mental stress. Or damn near any other thing - humans (and NCIS characters) can't know what others are thinking, so we (and they) assume, and that's how soap operas are born. PS: consider this a soap opera warning, while I'm at it. Buckets o' instability.

Reminder #2: Time shifting still hap'nin.

* * *

 **SEASONS**

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Tony didn't know how long he'd stood at the window, watching the neighborhood that had become his world, but when his knee began to ache slightly from being so long in one position he finally pushed off and went to sit at his laptop. He opened a new file and stared at the blank screen for many moments: if he was going to treat all this like just another protection detail, he needed a plan, needed facts and schedules and any possible threats, none of which he had. Yet he had to start somewhere. And slowly, he typed in, letting his mind wrap around the idea,

Ziva contacted.

Ziva located.

 _Ziva in Paris._

 _Ziva and Tali reunited._

He hesitated, giving a lot of thought to his next assessment, as if he were preparing a report.

 _Ziva moving under her own power, apparently oriented to people and events. Ziva reports that she is not injured or ill, but is dismissive of the question. She does not appear healthy, as she weighs at least 20 lbs less than she did in Israel in 2013. She seems shaky, maybe even frail, as compared to her physical condition in Israel._

 _In 2013, Ziva was not healthy mentally. She was obsessed (suddenly?) with making amends to those who could have been affected by the death of those she had killed over her lifetime, apparently in reaction to learning that her childhood friend was in love with her brother Ari Haswari when she killed him. Assessment for present mental state not yet possible, because her interactions in this first hour after meeting up with us have been understandably emotional. However, there is still something in her responses that ..._

Tony looked up suddenly, hearing the door to Tali's room, to see Ziva emerge from the hall, alone, carrying the tray. Seeing that she was willing to leave Tali, and that she was grounded enough to remember and bring the dishes with her, Tony felt a surge of hope that she was not as far gone as he feared, and that the Ziva he knew was still there – and only a moment later imagined Ziva telling him she would be on her way, intending to take their daughter with her...

He closed his file smoothly and stood, a bit shaky himself, watching Ziva as she came toward him. Without thinking, he moved to meet her; raising his hands slowly to take the tray, he worked to hide his concerns, shutting down his own emotional reaction to the circumstances. Seeing that her food was still untouched, he put it on his small dining table, leaving it for her to eat when she was ready, and half gestured toward it.

"Would you like something to drink?" Tony broke the silence. "I was going to make some coffee, but I have some black tea blend, too, from a Pakistani grocer in the open air market." He paused, unsure how to best approach the stranger in his living room. "I don't know what it is," he apologized, "but it's good."

Ziva stood near the table, her focus seeming to be elsewhere, eyes flitting dully around the room. Tony thought he saw her sway slightly, as if exhausted, and he wondered suddenly just how long she had been traveling without sleep. However, at his words, Ziva looked up, at him, finally, and nodded. "Tea, please."

"Tea," he agreed, relieved to have something productive to do, and moved off to heat the water for their drinks. For the first time since she had arrived, finally able to separate from her daughter with the understanding that Tali was indeed alive and safe and healthy, Ziva began to register Tony's words and responses to her – and all the guilt she had carried for so long about keeping Tali from him, and all her fears about his response, began to overwhelm her. She barely remembered what he might have said or done in the brief time since they'd reunited, and now that she tried to get a sense of his mood and reaction to what had happened, she sensed nothing.

 _The man she knew better than anyone else in the past decade was a blank slate to her – a thought which frightened her all over again for what it implied. He must hate her, surely, for her deception and her cowardly avoidance of him for so long. She suddenly remembered his moments of anger and his need for answers, since she had arrived; she felt again his frustration when she said she was 'fine' and his agonized question of why she had not told him about his daughter. That was what she expected of Tony, and would expect of anyone in these circumstances._

 _She did not expect this controlled, emotionless, impenetrable stranger who was making her tea._

Yet again, Ziva felt tears well in her eyes as exhaustion threatened to overtake her; even while recognizing that she should accept the food offered her, to build up her strength, she felt nauseous from her travel and the emotional upheaval of the past ninety minutes, reuniting with Tali ... reuniting with Tony. Any hope of returning to her partner with the ease they'd often shared crumbled as she noted the stiff set of his shoulders and his rigid jaw.

 _He must be so angry with me now..._

At that moment, he turned, and Tony saw a broken shell of the woman who had stolen his heart so many years ago, who had challenged him, taunted him, saved him ... cared for him. Even after Somalia, Ziva had not cried; Tony had only rarely seen tears from her until her father was gunned down, and even then her tears were short-lived, before rage and the need for revenge took over. In Israel, he saw tears, but they were mingled with her obsession and manic need to repair damage she could not know for certain existed or not.

But these ... _these_ were tears of despair and lost hope, heartbreaking to see in anyone, the tears he seen in victims once in a rare while. But to see them in _Ziva_ ...

Ziva saw his expression and turned in shame. She did not want him to see her tears. She was overcome with the fear that he would want their daughter, and might find her unfit as a mother, and knew without question that she would not survive losing Tali again.

"C'mon."

His voice, low, sounded only a moment before his hand carefully cupped her elbow. His other hand brushed her back, light as a whisper, as he guided her to sit. She followed, blindly, unwilling to look up at him.

"Oh, Ziva..." he sighed, softly; she could not register the emotion behind the sound. In the next moment, he stepped away.

* * *

 _October 29, 2016_

At the door, Ducky, ever charming and gracious, thanked them for coming and repeated once more how good it felt to have them home. As Tony and Tali thanked _him_ and started off to the car, Ziva took another moment for her own appreciation and a deep, welcoming hug from her kindly, wise friend. As she left with a promise to return, she felt a sudden sadness that she might have lost so much time with her 'adopted' family the schism might never be repaired.

Things still felt so wrong. She was home; she had been welcomed, but at arm's length, with a caution and uncertainty that hurt: even when she had come back from Somalia, even with the terrible events that led her to accuse Tony of things he would never do, and even after her allegiance fell back to Mossad over NCIS, and Israel over the US, she had been welcomed home as if no time had passed, and every one of them – even Abby – wanted nothing more than her healing and happiness. It was not the same this time. All were unfailingly polite and stunned at the fact she was alive, all offered hugs and genuine words of welcome and hope for future time together. But it felt like the greeting they would offer to someone in accounting. Or one of the guards, or a TAD who had been with them once. Someone _not family_.

She slowed, approaching their rental, as Tony strapped Tali into the child seat provided by the company, and realized that at the center of her hurt in all this was the estrangement she felt with her partner. This serious, perfectly polite Tony, often asking what she needed or wanted, was a stranger to her, either emotionally distant when not engaging with her, guarded and cautious with her when he was, and quick to raise his walls again if any of them slipped. This was a Tony at glaring odds with Gibbs, for reasons she still could not fathom. Ziva knew him well enough to know he was wounded, deeply, and was hiding the wounds from her, and though there were moments she saw the old Tony in a smile or a joke, it was still too fleeting to be as he'd been ...

The pieces suddenly fell into place, with the team, with this distant Tony, and it became all too clear to her that not only had she been the most recent person in his life to wound Tony, their team – _his friends_ – did not trust that she would not hurt him yet again.

She heard her breath catch with the force of her realization. In the past few days since they had reunited, she'd seen in Tony the protector, the caring father, the thoughtful friend – and the neglected child he'd been, all pulled into his self-protective shell. No matter why she had to leave him, why she had to sort things out on her own, her actions had affected him, and, in turn, affected those here who loved him. The team still cared about her, and welcomed her – but were wary of what lay ahead for Tony with her back in his life. Understanding flooded her and her eyes spilled again. Ziva understood their distance now, their caution with her ... and her duty to them, over anyone else she might have hurt in her lifetime. Amid all those others to whom she owed restitution, all those she hurt with her actions over the years, she had not seen what she owed the team until this moment, and felt a wave of shame to have missed it. At least she was here now – _divine intervention?_ she wondered – and made herself a promise that she would earn their trust and make amends with them all. Especially Tony.

She came around to the passenger side of their rental, swiping at her eyes in the hope Tony would not notice, and for once, he was oblivious. The smile he'd plastered on in Ducky's house, his veneer hiding whatever had happened with Gibbs, was slipping, and his mind was clearly miles away. Working to hide her latest emotional upheaval, Ziva slid into the passenger seat, turning around to speak to Tali as Tony finished buckling her into her seat, Ziva brushed Tali's hair back from her face, murmuring warmly to her daughter about the party and all the people who came to see her. As she did, she tried to keep her glances to Tony as surreptitious as possible in such close quarters.

When Tony opened his door and got behind the wheel, Ziva could sense the tension emanating from him as he gripped the wheel and stared ahead at the street, not yet turning the key, and she wondered again what had happened in those minutes he'd been out in the kitchen. She had not seen him leave the room initially, but had watched him stalk from the kitchen back out to the table, his demeanor changed from what it had been earlier. In that moment she noticed that Gibbs was no longer haunting the corner of the room where he had spent most of his visit. Before they'd left Ducky's house, of course, Tony had reappeared and, as smoothly as ever, had covered any discord he was feeling and thanked everyone for coming, promising visits and calls and availability. But despite his sincere and appreciative hugs with their team, despite his light-hearted chatter to Tali, Ziva saw the effort it took Tony to extract himself from the group's attention so he escape Gibbs and whatever still lay between them.

Ziva knew it would be pointless to just ask Tony what had happened, either that morning, in Ducky's kitchen, or in the years she'd been away. This – _fracture_ – between the men was wrong on so many levels, for both Tony and for Gibbs. Guiltily, she also mourned yet another loss of her own to see it: in coming back to the District, she'd felt hope that she was coming _home_ , to the family she'd left behind. But the was team distant, Tony was still a stranger – and he and Gibbs were estranged, something she would never have foreseen. The thought that so much had been ruined, and that maybe the bond between Gibbs and his former SFA yet another casualty tied to her actions, made her ache all over again for what had been lost.

"I was just going to head back to the hotel, to drop you and Tali off," Tony said suddenly. "Was there somewhere else you'd rather go?"

His unexpected words roused her from her teetering thoughts, and Ziva's eyebrows drew together at the implication. "No," she began, uncertain of his intentions now. Cautiously, she asked, "... you are not going to stay at the hotel?"

Emotions still churning from his run in with Gibbs, Tony shook his head in frustration. Recognizing his anger at his former boss was an overreaction, but not knowing why, his first instinct was to burn it off before he exploded. "I was going to ..." Tony hesitated. Now back in D.C. without a gym and a bag to pummel into submission, without his shoes and a stretch of pavement at hand to pound into submission whatever this was with Gibbs that had him crazy, all he could think to do was to drive – to get away from everyone and out past the city, out past everything, out past the last weeks and months and years and just drive, until he was done, until he stopped seeing red and got his head back on straight, until he could step down off the ledge ...

 _Or until someone else weighed in._

"... _Go_ , Abba!"

In what was now well-ingrained habit, Tony immediately glanced back in the rearview mirror to his daughter, who screwed up her face in concentration and rocked forward and back in her car seat, doing her best to help get the car moving, the perfect reaction from the toddler offspring of a speed demon mother and a car-loving father. Tony's need to escape evaporated immediately as the old DiNozzo, who apparently had reappeared with their return to the District, the team and Gibbs, was firmly replaced by the father and former agent who no longer counted a solo escape as a viable option.

With a self-conscious, apologetic glance first to Ziva, Tony gathered himself into a grin for the rearview mirror, and made eye contact with his impatient daughter. "Yes, ma'am!" He started the engine and revved it a couple times, eliciting approving giggles from his backseat passenger. Snorting at that, he looked at Ziva ruefully. "She gets that from you," he feigned sudden disapproval. "No way I'm letting her get her license before she's forty."

Despite her own recently careening emotions and lingering sense of insecure uncertainty, Ziva nonetheless managed a small, acknowledging smile. "I do not know that even the both of us could hold her off that long," she tried.

Tony grunted a grudging agreement, looking back at his child with an affection Ziva had never seen from him before she'd seen him with Tali, and she felt another twinge of guilt for her choices – _all_ of her choices – when it came to Tony. Before she could become too lost in those regrets, however, Tony looked back at her, his expression serious.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking," he began, clearly referring back to his first statement. "I still planned to stay in the connected room we booked – unless _you've_ had second thoughts." He paused a moment to see if she wanted to weigh in. When she said nothing, he went on, "I was just going to go clear my head," he shrugged, " but someone else cleared it for me." Tony mugged back toward Tali, again trying a small joke to brush off the issue, and chuckled at the nonsensical comment that elicited from the little girl. Looking back to her mother, again sounding apologetic, Tony added, "if we're going to be back in town for a while, there are plenty of other things to do. What do you two need first, to get started? I know we'll need two cars – I haven't exactly let you have a chance at the keys since we got here."

Ziva still felt Tony's reticence, but saw that he was doing all he could to find a way for them, more than she was managing at the moment. Allowing herself to trust the bit of hope she felt to see it, Ziva said slowly, "the most practical thing would be a real phone. I have only a burn phone, and on a French account."

"Good idea," he agreed readily. "Any preference for your phone company?" As she shrugged, he added, slowly, "we could see if it would work out better to put another line for you on my account – if you wanted."

At the sudden thought of such a domestic arrangement, Ziva hesitated, and as she looked back to Tony, their eyes met, maybe really _seeing_ each other for the first time in three years. And in that moment, Ziva knew for a crazy certainty that, given their long history and recent estrangement, their unexpected shared parenthood and uncertain relationship, her answer carried more importance for them both than anything between them ever had. At the thought that their entire future could turn on something as trivial as a cell phone contract, when, without a second thought, they had just agreed to buy a house together, something suddenly let go in her chest and, as hard as she tried to hold it back, her laughter at the absurd, sweet insanity of it all bubbled from her. She looked at Tony with all the impossibility and hope and anger and trust and misunderstanding and frustration and love and desire she had ever felt for him, and she knew in all certainty that she would never meet a better man, a better father, a better partner, a better _fit_ for her, than Tony DiNozzo, and that she would be even more unbalanced than she had been over the past few years if she did not work to remember it every day of her life...

"Ziva?"

Her thoughts stopped their inner spiral at the sound, and she suddenly saw Tony, really _saw_ him, as he looked at her with more than a little concern. This time when she offered a smile, it was a little shaky, but it felt more like _her_ , more alive, than she had felt in a while. "Sorry," she said softly. "Jet lag."

He snorted; to her relief, his concern seemed to have lessened, and he too sounded a little more like himself. "You always said you didn't _get_ jet lagged."

"Blame your daughter," the old Ziva peeked out to joke wryly. "She has changed my life."

At her words, Tony glanced over to the woman he had known – and not known – for over a decade now, whom he loved through it all. "I don't doubt that at all." He considered her for another moment, then suggested, quietly, "wanna go to my phone company, and see what they say?"

* * *

TBC...

 **A/N:** Honestly, when this was in my head it wasn't nearly as emotional, but this chap was mostly from Ziva's POV, and she took over while it was being written. As I have been suggesting as hard as I could, I don't think she was mentally stable in her last appearance on the show, and she hasn't had the chance to get better. Never fear, we won't leave her here, but in the meantime, we're emotionally labile. And hey, I'm treating her better than TPTB who _made_ her unstable and then blew her up!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Thanks everyone, for finding and making it this far. For those of you who want faster updates, or updates on a specific day, I very much appreciate your interest, and I promise I will update as often as I can. But no joke: my work hours are long, as is my daily commute; I do not exaggerate when I say that in order to write, I usually have to choose between writing  & sleeping. I'm doing my best to keep up. However, I can't promise more a more specific schedule than that.

Time shifting: yes, still, but the time gap is narrowing.

* * *

 **SEASONS**

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Ziva immediately felt the loss of him, more strongly than she would have expected. The sensory memory of Tony, the familiar warmth and solid presence and scent of him, had triggered hazy threads of comfort and security now that her long absent partner was so close, so that when he withdrew, that same grief she'd felt when he'd left three years ago burned again in her eyes.

But it was only a moment or two before his steps sounded again, and Tony sat in front of her, only inches away now. Again ashamed of her weakness and tears, which seemed wholly beyond her control with her exhaustion and the events of the past hour, she mourned to herself fleetingly as she still hid her face from him. _What must he think of me now?_

As the chair across from her creaked briefly, Ziva smelled the warm, earthy musk of a black tea as Tony spoke. "Here ..." After long moments, she raised her face slightly to see a steaming mug in his hands, held out to her. "Tea, with just a little honey."

 _He remembered_ , she registered. _Tea, strong, and nothing added, was her usual order, unless she was worn down or needed comforting ..._

She took the tea and, after only another moment, deeply breathed in the comforting scent of it, then took a slow sip ... and then another ...

"Ziva... I need you to listen to me, alright? I need to know a couple things."

He spoke in a tone she had heard only rarely from him, one never directed to her before: it was the quiet sound of command, of authority. She remembered clearly one of the last times she had heard it; they had been sent in to rescue civilians trapped in an office building where a live shooter had been cornered by the FBI. Both federal and local officers trained in hostage situations had been called in to assist with the rescue due to the large area involved where civilians were at risk. Ziva had followed Tony onto the floor just below the shooter's location, and, entering a corner break room where more than thirty employees had barricaded themselves, immediately heard from him the steady, sure voice of command they did not often need to use as federal agents, a confident mix of assurance, clear and direct instructions, and a presence that radiated unquestionable reassurance that he would guide them to safety. At the time, Ziva had marveled at how perfectly he communicated with the group of frightened civilian hostages, victims under fire, who needed to act quickly and without question in order to save themselves.

 _...and now, here he was, at one time her partner, and he was speaking to her as if she was a victim now, too..._

Even so, his tone carried reassurance to her as it had to all those civilians, and Ziva managed to meet his eyes, shame making her cheeks burn. She nodded unsteadily.

"First – are you in any danger? Is someone after you, so that we need to address our security here?"

She breathed a slight sigh of relief, grateful for an easy question. "No. Only Mossad would still be looking, and ... I do not think they would bother." She held the tea mug closer to her, cupped in both hands, and looked back to Tony. At his expression – concern, question – she knew he was not convinced. She owed him at least the assurance of her assessment, in the circumstances. "If they did look .. I do not believe it would be a threat, but only ..." she searched for the right descriptor. "Curiosity, maybe. Or a sense of duty. Something owed my father."

His expression shifted, and Ziva relaxed slightly to see that Tony appeared to accept her assessment. He nodded, his expression still serious. "Alright. Good." He paused, still scrutinizing her, before speaking again. "Now, second," he began slowly and softly, his eyes never leaving her, "I am not going to ask if you're okay, because you will tell me you're fine. And, clearly, Ziva, you are _not_ 'fine.'" He never dropped his focused assessment of her, and she found she could not look away. "But I _will_ ask if you need medical attention for any sort of illness or injury – and I expect you to be honest with me."

His gaze would not waver, and she felt herself begin to crumble under his scrutiny until she looked away...

"Ziva," Tony urged, "I need to know if you will be okay on your own to get better, with some decent rest and food, or if you need more. Because it's not just about you any more, wanting to prove you can tough it out. I have spent the last six months with your daughter ..." Tony suddenly paused, his voice becoming rough with the emotion that slipped through the wall he tried holding between them, to get through this discussion. Clearing his throat, he then resumed, "who missed her mother _every_ single day. And you are _not_ going to make Tali face any more days without you just because you are too stubborn or afraid or ... I don't know what ... to see a doctor if you need to."

Ziva's throat tightened as a strangled sob twisted from her at his words.

"You have to think of Tali, Ziva," he urged, the sound of him still compelling and in command. "If medical help will get you feeling better more quickly, we'll find what you need. You just have to tell me what's wrong."

Ziva swallowed back the anguish that coursed through her again, the guilt and the heartache of all the months away from Tali, all the time she'd lost not looking for her, believing her daughter had died. She finally shook her head. "I ... have not eaten well for a ... a little while. And ... have not been sleeping much. But otherwise ..." She considered, then said, honestly, "I do not think there is anything that cannot heal on its own."

"Would you see someone – just to be sure?"

She looked into the unyielding expression of Tali's father, much more the federal agent with her now and less her partner, the man who used to try to get her to see reason by arguing or cajoling or pleading. She hesitated, but in her exhaustion could not think of a good reason to refuse. She finally nodded her agreement, silently, eyes darting away self-consciously.

Tony sat back in his chair slightly to see it, a frown of concern still on his brow. Ziva's acquiescence made him worry a little that maybe she _did_ have something to see a doctor about, but then figured she might have just agreed to get him off her back. Whatever it was, he'd take it, and he'd worry about her or not from there, based on whatever an examination might reveal.

"Okay. I know someone I can call, ask where to go to get you checked out. But before I do ..." While he was on a roll, he decided to risk one more question. "When I saw you last – at the farmhouse – you weren't yourself, Ziva. You were upset about what Dina had told you, and you were ready to quit everything to go make up for your work over the last decade." At his return to a softer tone, Ziva was able to look back at him. Seeing it, and choosing his words carefully, uncertain about how Ziva viewed her emotional state back then, Tony asked, "where's your head right now, Ziva? Is it still so important to you to ..." He still wasn't sure what to call it. "To follow up with the families of those who died?"

She frowned at his word choice. "It was more than that," she hedged, defensively. "I owed them atonement, and not only for those who died, but any of them who were hurt or harmed, or ..."

When she trailed off, Tony's heart sank to see that whatever had haunted her there in Israel had not run its course. She was not as intense as she had been back then, but if that was a sign of a more chronic obsession, or just a result of her weakened physical state, he had no way to know. But this still wasn't the Ziva he'd known in those first years.

 _...and_ _ **this**_ _is the Ziva who has been Tali's mother. Could he trust her alone with her own daughter?_

He had to know. "So..." he began carefully. "If you were already pregnant when I left, wh..."

"I _was_ , Tony," she interrupted, alarm in her eyes. "Of course I was – Tali _is_ your daughter..."

Tony suddenly understood. "No; I know – that was just a turn of phrase, just meaning you were pregnant then, not 'if.' I _know_ she's my daughter, Ziva – before anyone even thought to ask, Abby tested her DNA."

Ziva blinked at the sudden thought of Tali being in the U.S., there at NCIS, with the people she'd left behind. "Oh – of course," she murmured. She knew it should have occurred to her, especially their ready access to DNA testing, but she felt so muddled, especially with the emotional reunion of an hour ago adding to her physical depletion.

"But since you were pregnant when I left Israel," Tony went on gently, hiding his concern, "you would not have had too much time to try to find anyone before it would have been difficult for you to travel." He hoped that she would pick up the story and tell him about the months after he left.

Something flickered across her face – a memory; maybe regret – and many moments passed. Before she spoke, she seemed to draw into herself again, walling herself off, and Tony knew he would not hear the rest of the story for some time. Still, she nodded, finally, agreeing with his implication. "I never left the country."

Tony breathed out slowly, weighing her responses, as he considered what came next. He switched gears to the present. "Until the farmhouse was targeted," he suggested.

She didn't meet his eyes. "Some weeks before," she said slowly, not wanting to explain further - _not yet_ \- "but not until then."

"And you haven't been back?"

"No."

Tony frowned, concerned about how much she wasn't telling him, how brittle her emotional state seemed to be. He wanted nothing more than to provide mother and daughter a safe environment to resume their relationship, but didn't know how far he could rely on her judgment about her safety – or predict what she might do next. Alone in Paris, without many contacts, and without the safety net he'd had in D.C. as a long-serving law enforcement officer, Tony didn't have the resources and the back up he was used to having, and he wracked his brain to think of how he could keep both Ziva and Tali safe and healthy, so they could relax and try for some normalcy for a change.

Until the obvious hit him over the head.

He blinked, surprised at how quickly the idea took root in him as the perfect answer, and how much he hoped she would agree. He tamped down all hope and forced himself to breathe before he spoke. "Ziva – what d'ya say all three of us head back home to Washington?"

* * *

 _October 29, 2016_

As Tony pulled onto the expressway taking them out in search of his telephone company, Ziva saw that having a "mission," a task to be accomplished, helped ease his tension from the morning. The get together had been positive in every way that she had seen, so in the circumstances, the only source of Tony's tension and anger that morning that she could determine was Gibbs.

The thought still left her troubled and confused. The relationship between Tony and Gibbs was well-forged and long-standing when she was first dropped into their team, and over the years, she'd had a front row seat to watch the pair interact. She of all people knew how complex a relationship with Gibbs could be; he was a remarkable man with remarkable failings he would not acknowledge but, she always thought before, at least seemed to recognize on reflection. It made him a good leader: he did not second guess himself in front of his people, but, after action, subtle changes might be evident and new considerations made. It allowed for the development of trust and the continued, flexible mutual support in the team.

But now?

Ziva knew she was still damaged; she knew that she could not yet trust her instincts as she had before, and that her read on things was not reliable after such a short time back. She knew that life here had gone on while she was gone, and that the 'vibe' of the team was not what it was when she left. Even so, the division between Gibbs and Tony was palpable, and completely indecipherable to her. Knowing each man as she did – as she _had_ – Ziva assumed that neither would be willing to tell her much. Given their longstanding relationship and the apparent damage, and what it likely meant to them, she wondered if either man could provide a neutral assessment of the situation even if the wanted to.

Ziva wanted to know what had happened; she wanted to know what was safe treading and what was off limits, if they were battling; she wanted to know what damage had been done to one by the other. But more than anything, she wanted to know if there was a bridge to bring them back together. She loved each man for many reasons, and knew, maybe more than most, the value and esteem each saw in the other. She wanted to ask Ducky for his input, but wondered if that would put him in an awkward position, despite his likely willingness to speak about it; she thought about asking Tim, who probably would have a less idealized view of things than Ducky would, but feel greater guilt in talking about it.

Ziva glanced back at Tony, who drove on in silence, and she realized that he had not interrupted her brooding – another sign, she assumed, of how much things had changed, both between them, and with how much his fracture with Gibbs was affecting him. The 'Tony diNosy' she knew as partner would have sniffed out her mood in seconds and called her on it, asking why and who and trying to read her mind. Also, the Tony DiNozzo she used to know knew hated silence when things were fine; but a failure to fill a lull in conversation that lasted more than even a minute was the first sign that his thoughts were unsettled.

Ziva stifled a sigh. She wondered how things had gotten to this point, but knew that her father's meddling, and her own actions in connection with it, could not have helped matters. Yet they all welcomed her back, once again, just as they had before. If they were so willing to do so – led by Gibbs, no doubt – maybe Gibbs could do the same for Tony, no matter why the fall-out. Ziva might not know what caused the rift between them, but knew one thing for certain: Tony's response, whether a 'final straw' reaction to many matters, or a result of one specific event, was just that – a _response_ to something said or done by Gibbs. She knew Tony's dedication and admiration for his boss, and knew his unfailing loyalty for anyone he let into his circle. Gibbs, on the other hand, could often act as if he had neither admiration nor dedication for some of his agents, although Ziva knew it was there, under the harsh exterior. He was a complicated man, with complicated demons. Unfortunately, at times he allowed them to override his honest concern and pride and affection for men like Tony.

Ziva just hoped that whatever the reason they were now at odds, their years of trust and support, however dysfunctional, were enough to allow them to weather this disruption too. She promised herself to try and remember each man's demons as she worked to battle her own, and found herself wondering fleetingly if these were simply more scars they all bore from their years of armed aggression against others. Even if they were always in the right – and Ziva could not allow herself to think otherwise – most humans souls were not designed to destroy others.

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

Ziva's look in response was hard to read – guarded, uncertain, wary – but, Tony dared believe, hopeful. Suddenly aware of just how homesick he was for the familiarity of the District and the people he knew there, he steadied himself and thought hard about what he would say next. "It's home, Ziva. It's the safest place Tali can be, for a lot of reasons – further from Mossad, if they did get curious, greater domestic safety – family, all of whom would watch out for Tali like she was their own child. With all the upheaval I _know_ you've been though in the last ten years, whatever all you've been through that I can't even guess – you deserve a chance to breathe. _Tali_ deserves a chance to have a quiet, happy, normal childhood. And we can have _all_ that back in D.C. Or if not there, in New York, or somewhere else in the U.S. We're both citizens and can walk back in any time we want to – and Tali's American passport came through months ago."

Tony saw a sudden alarm in Ziva's expression, and assured her, "just so she could travel with me, so they didn't try to take her from me or detain us somewhere; that's all. She still has her Israeli passport, too." He paused, searching for an even tone, despite his own hopes. "Ziva ... think about it. We'll go only if you decide it's right, too, but think about it, okay?" Tony wavered for a moment, then leaned in to take her now cold, empty mug.

Getting to his feet to head into the kitchen, Tony turned the flame back on under the kettle, and filled the tea basket with fresh leaves, then pushed the plunger on the French press still steeping on the counter. He worked deliberately, keeping his movements quiet and slow, allowing Ziva literal space to consider his words. He listened for any sound from her, keeping his eyes on his work, pouring creamer into his mug and following with coffee.

Tony knew that no matter her response, he had to keep his reaction neutral, accepting – unthreatening. Ziva needed to trust that he did not want to separate her from Tali. And while that was the absolute truth, it was not his primary concern. What mattered more to Tony DiNozzo than anything at that very moment was that the highly trained, very skilled mother of his daughter did not suddenly spook and run with her – because he knew that if she did, and if she wanted to avoid being caught, he would never see Ziva or Tali again. Tony's finding Ziva in Israel had been a surprise to her that she would not let happen again, if she believed it necessary to hide again. Tony did not want to do anything to risk her flight.

He flipped off the flame and poured the nearly boiling water over the tea leaves in Ziva's mug. Once the idea of going back to Washington had planted itself in his mind, Tony wanted nothing more than to go home to friends and familiarity. He loved the time he had spent with Tali and was still stunned with relief that Ziva had gotten his message and found them, but he was tired of running, tired from searching and hoping and learning how to care for a toddler ... just _tired_. The kind of tired that needed rest with _both_ eyes shut, not one still searching for enemies and for lost connections. The kind of rest he could get only when someone he trusted could watch his six.

He didn't know exactly who all he could trust to do that now. Once upon a time, his first choices could have been Gibbs and Ziva. Now that Gibbs had benched him without any basis he could yet see and had avoided any contact or mention of Tali, now that Ziva was, until proven otherwise, unstable and unpredictable, he could not rely on either of them. He _could_ rely on Tim and the others, he knew, but the loss of Gibbs and Ziva's previously reliable support was devastating him – and not only for their skills...

"...you are right."

The words were so soft, even with his careful breathing and focused attention, Tony was afraid he'd heard wrong. He turned to look at her, seeing her still sitting on the edge of his couch, face tipped down, her posture deflated and small. Snatching up her mug and coming back in front of her, sitting slowly and quietly, he nudged, "Ziva?" He hoped he had not imagined it.

"You are right, that Tali deserves a happy, normal childhood ... and she can have that in the U.S. Especially in Washington." She finally lifted her eyes to his, and more than anything he saw a look of defeat there, as if somehow she was failing in having to make these admissions.

"You can have a normal life there, too," Tony urged. "No more running there, Ziva; no more hiding from people who want to hurt you."

Her tears welled again. "How do you know I will be accepted back by Gibbs, or the others? It was not easy for them after Somalia ... and this time may be much worse."

He hadn't thought of that, and given the past year with Gibbs in particular, he could not make any promises that the man would want to see any of them again. "Ziva – they all think you died in that explosion. I saw what your 'loss' did to them," he urged, honestly. "I saw their loss too, when you decided to stay in Israel. You are _family_ to them." He hoped that Gibbs would still be included in having that reaction. "And even if that wasn't true – it's safer there. There are lots of places we could go, things I can do to make a living, things you could do if you wanted, both in the same place so that Tali wouldn't need to bounce between cities to see her parents." He saw her react with the memories she had of her parents' separation and divorce, and forced himself to take a breath, to slow down and not rush this. After a moment, he shrugged. "There is no time line for this, you know. Tali's got time before things like school have to be considered." He paused again and offered, "you just got here ninety minutes ago."

Ziva shivered nervously, considering his words, and finally shook her head. "But those things will be still true in another ninety minutes, and another, and another ninety days." She was quiet for another few moments, and, summoning her nerve, finally asked what she feared the most. "Then ... you are not asking to take Tali away from me?"

His heart broke, and he murmured again, "Oh, Ziva..." _However did it come to this for her?_ "Never," he vowed. "No matter what else, Ziva, I wouldn't do that. I _couldn't._ " He drew a shaky breath, and ran his hand through his hair. "Look – I don't exactly have a plan or any ideas or even a guess what will happen tomorrow or next week or whenever – but I want to do everything I can to make Tali's life a happy one, and help her know every moment of her life that _both_ parents love her and are there for her – something that we both know something about." He hesitated before saying more as the old hurts reminded him of the past, and his present awareness warned him not to load too much into these first hours. "And that's ... that's all I know right now. But it just feels like that all might be easier to do back home."

She was quiet for many moments, and when she lifted her face again, yet another tear tracked down her face. "Okay," she whispered, her whole demeanor both relieved and fearful, all at once. "Okay."

 _TBC ..._


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: It's been forever, I know. Nearly everyone responding has been so kind and understanding about the delays – that means a lot! It's really appreciated, so thank you for that. Please know that when I have time to get back to writing, I do, but other things insist on getting in line in front of it to eat up all my time.

Some of the delay involved slight adjustments to a couple earlier chapters so the characters are a bit more consistent as the story goes forward. I don't know that it's too noticeable, but I thought it was needed. With the writers giving us a very damaged Ziva and a disturbing breakdown in the Gibbs-DiNozzo relationship, the characters as developed in those episodes, and their likely actions and thoughts in these circumstances, are more challenging than usual. After smoothing a few rough edges from before to fit with where they are going, I could get back to moving foreward.

Reminders: if this feels bashy, please remember that TPTB's writers did some damage to these characters' psyches in recent years, and I am trying to move them from where they were written to healthier circumstances and interactions. What they gave us, and where they are now in this story, wasn't/isn't pretty.

Time shifting: yes, still, but the time gap is still narrowing.

SEASONS

 _October 24, 2016_

Ziva awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented – curled up on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar apartment, with no memory of having fallen asleep – until her memory caught up with her, just as she saw a note in Tony's familiar scrawl on the table in front of her.

 _Tali woke up about an hour after you fell asleep,_ he had written. _We went to the park in the next street. We left at 1140 - will be back in about an hour. Help yourself to anything you find._

Below his note was a map he sketched for her and beside it, a key, presumably to the apartment. The momentary panic she felt at finding them gone was replaced by another thread of guilt for what she had done. _I keep his daughter from him, and he takes pains to be sure I know where she is and how to find her._

Still groggy from her short nap, which barely touched her depleted energy, Ziva considered a shower but had only the clothes on her back, and at the thought of delaying her search for them, she felt her anxiety return. There would be time to shower when they came back here afterward, she reasoned, and, standing too quickly, her head swam as her vision blackened slightly at the edges.

Tony had been right, of course; she should eat something. And as her head cleared a little, and this Paris apartment, with evidence of both Tony and Tali's existence still there, remained solid and substantial, her stomach did not rebel so badly as she remembered the cheese and fruit Tony had offered before. Crossing into the kitchen to look in the refrigerator, she saw the plate he'd made her, and took it out with the glass of milk. Putting the pear in her jacket pocket and drinking the milk, she then tucked the cheese in the bread, trapped it in paper towel, and, grabbing the key and the map, headed out the door, down the steps, and into the sunshine.

* * *

 _October 29, 2016_

When Gibbs came back into the solarium, to his surprise, the room was empty, and Ducky was at the front door seeing our Palmer and Abby. Their voices filtered back to him, clearly repeating their quiet offers to help clean up as Ducky shooed them on home. Coming into the hallway, Gibbs watched his friend close the door and turn to face him. The doctor's face was unreadable as he looked at Gibbs, as silent as the man himself.

Gibbs couldn't tell what was in his friend's thoughts at the moment, but he knew Ducky. He thought he knew when a lecture was coming, although his gut twinged in an unsettled response to the thought. From the silence and the doctor's stony expression, he wasn't so sure. He was sure, however, that he wasn't in the mood to hear it. Especially after whatever that was, out in the kitchen, with DiNozzo.

He broke the face off by starting toward the door and his waiting car. "Nice party, Duck," he ground out under his breath as he made to leave.

"A word, Jethro," the doctor said immediately.

"Aw, Ducky," Gibbs groaned, "not now. I gotta get back to..."

"Your basement? I need only a moment." Ducky's voice was flat, almost emotionless, but it was clearly the voice of command.

"I've heard it before, Ducky..."

"No. You have not." Dr. Mallard did not approach him, nor was there the slightest change in his expression. "You have been granted the rarest of second chances with not one, but _two_ people closer to you than most in your life, whom you once held dear. Both have saved your life, and you, theirs. Neither of them had much in the way of familial or paternal support or guidance, yet both survived to become fine people in spite of it. And both, whether you like it or not, found a mentor in you. One of them was lost to us all, so we though; the other ... you wrote off." The doctor's eyes flared momentarily with anger at the thought. "Yet now they are here again. _Both_ of them."

"They know where to find me."

"And that is all you will offer?" Ducky asked. No matter that his tone was deceptively mild – Gibbs did not miss the reproach in the older man's words.

"What do you want from me, Duck?"

"Honesty. With _yourself_."

The implications from his friend's words mixed with what Gibbs had seen and heard from his former agents, and all that he'd found himself thinking and feeling since he knew they were back. _So much for semper fi, Gunny..._ His gut had been churning for many, many months now, and nothing had worked to get it on any sort of even keel again. He tried to tell himself it had all started with Luke and the Calling, but if he was honest with himself he knew things had started getting rocky well before then. Thoughts working further and further back, touching sore moments he still had not shed, his headache ratcheted up another notch.

Ducky considered him for another moment, standing unyieldingly in the hall in a most ungracious way for a host yet not caring one damn bit. However, the purposeful set of his shoulders wavered the smallest bit, and he dropped his determined glare from Gibbs to the floor. Clearly coming to some sort of decision, then, after another moment, Ducky spoke again, raising his eyes back to his friend. His voice was no warmer than it had been moments ago. "When Anthony left, I decided I would not again try to get you to see reason when it came to your relationship with him. Or to get you to see reason on much of anything, actually. I've made my worries known. So what I say now is not for you, Jethro, but for Tony, and for Ziva." He paused, again giving thought to his words. "They are both strong, intelligent people. They are _survivors_. And by God if you continue with your misguided, pig-headed, stubborn refusal to admit your all-too-human failings – and how they led you to shut Anthony out of your life after Ziva left – Tony and Ziva will still manage to get on with their lives. But like the forsaken children they once were, it is still in their nature to blame themselves for your distance. They will always think that if they were just a wee bit smarter or faster or _better_ at whatever it was you expected of them, you would again, finally, find those rare words of approval or praise you used to have for them. They still want your approval, Jethro, and your friendship, and want you to be a part of their lives. I dare say they may always want it, at some level or other.

"Therefore," the doctor straightened to his full height. "If not for your own care and concern for them, or for their sweet child; if not for the esteem you used to accord them – then, for their sakes," Ducky sighed, "be honest about what happened to make you write off Anthony and to hold Ziva at arm's length. And after you do that – don't just leave your bloody door open. _Go through theirs_."

Ducky held Gibbs' gaze for only another moment, then walked past Gibbs into the hall to move on back toward the solarium. Without turning, the doctor added softly, "please shut the door when you leave."

And once again, in a span of fifteen minutes, yet another man he considered a friend – no; _family_ – had walked out on him, this time after echoing back to him the thoughts that had been plaguing him since the return of two people now strangers to him.

* * *

 _October 24, 2016_

In spite of all the signs she had not been dreaming – _again_ – Ziva bolted her bread and cheese as she ran down the steps, hurried along the sidewalk to the corner, and turned toward the park. Scanning the park as she neared, she felt a thread of worry when she did not see them at first. But then catching the still-familiar form of her former partner, pushing her happily squealing daughter on a swing, she slowed to a walk, even stopping some distance away to watch father and daughter together before they knew she was there. A lump rose in her throat at what could have been – what _should_ have been – for both of them over the past two years, and thanked God that, regardless of how or why, they had found each other and, clearly, had formed the bond that should have begun at Tali's birth.

She could not help the tiny smile of recognition that arose when, after only a moment or two of being watched, Tony turned to look around the park. _His instincts were still sharp,_ she noted, glad to see it, to know her daughter was as safe with him as with her.

And she saw him hesitate, seeing her there. Even from a distance Ziva could see that her appearance still had an effect on him as conflicting emotions played over his face in the moments before he could hide them. She felt another pang of hurt that his initial reaction of relief and awe to see her again, after months of believing she was dead, was replaced by the shuttered control of one hurt too many times to risk it again.

 _Because of me_ , she lectured herself. _Because of my actions._ She watched as, finally breaking eye contact with her, Tony slowed the arc of Tali's swing to whisper in her ear. As soon as she saw the child's face light up and search the park until she saw her, Ziva knew precisely what Tony must have said.

" _Ima!_ " The joy and excitement in Tali's whole bearing as she ran toward her raised another lump in Ziva's throat, and she started walking again toward them again to meet her. Tony straightened slowly but stood where he was, watching protectively, but letting them each have their space. "Ima!" Tali ran full force into her mother's arms, warm and sweet smelling and squirming with excitement. "Swing!" She beamed, pointing back to where Tony stood but not leaving her mother's arms yet.

Ziva nodded, emotions still so raw that tears again filled her eyes. She didn't know if Tali was commenting on her activity or asking her to return to them, but it didn't matter; her daughter was irrefutably alive and safe and thriving, and nothing else mattered at that moment. "I see," she gulped, answering her daughter in English as she realized she might not have put the Hebrew word for swing together with the English word she used for _these_ swings, in this park. _The least she could do for Tony at this moment was to reinforce his communication with his daughter_ , Ziva reasoned vaguely. She gave her daughter another hug and a kiss on her forehead as she stood with her in her arms. "Would you like to go back to the swing?"

Tali nodded fiercely, twisting in Ziva's arms to point toward them – and Tony. "Swing! Abba, swing." She added, waiting for Ziva to get going.

 _Abba. Her daughter was able to use that word now, to know the man who gave her life, as surely as she had._ Swallowing the newest surge of emotion, Ziva nuzzled her daughter's rosy cheek and started toward him. "We will go see Abba and the swings, yes?" She smiled as the curly head nodded decisively against her again.

She watched Tony as he watched them approach him, seeing his expression soften into something like ... appreciation. Or understanding? As Ziva put a squirming Tali down and let her pull her the last couple feet toward the swing she had just vacated, Tony shrugged awkwardly and offered quietly, "she's the spitting image of you, Ziva."

Ziva felt a small smile pull at her lips, a foreign feeling in recent months. "Have you seen her smile? Especially if she thinks she is getting away with something?"

He snorted softly, nodding, smirking himself. "Yeah, I have."

"That, she does not get from me." She glanced back up at him, expecting for a moment the old Tony to surface, to deny and argue just for the sake of entertaining conversation – _his way of connecting_ , she had decided once in a more charitable moment.

But the moment had been lost.

He moved behind their daughter as she wiggled herself into her seat and kicked her legs, either in an ineffective attempt to start swinging again or in readiness for him to push her. "Ready?" he asked quietly, near her ear, and when she nodded enthusiastically, he drew the swing back several paces, slowly, then let it go. As Tali squealed and babbled with the rush of the wind, Tony remained behind her, watching her, making no move to cross the few feet back to where Ziva stood.

A lump grew in her throat to see it; as much as she wanted to think she was imagining it, Ziva was stuck by the distance she suddenly felt from him, as if he'd built a wall around his heart while she slept, as if the masks of their earlier days was not enough for her return to his life. She may have lost touch with him recently, but not so long ago she had known him as well as anyone knew Tony, and she knew that the moment he'd seen her with Tali – the moment of wonder that had crossed his face – had been only a final crack in the newly setting mortar.

Slowly, she sat on the bench a few feet from the swing set; she did not want to intrude and did not want to display her continuing weakness - or her pain at what she had seen in him. She reminded herself what she had done in keeping his daughter a secret from him and how he would find it hard – or impossible – to trust her as he once had.

Sitting by as father and daughter played on the swings, Ziva acknowledged to herself that had she had once again hurt others, and this time, it was the two left most dear to her. She had always known that Tali and Tony would have to meet someday, and that they might both hate her for the decisions she had made. This time, however, it was not the decisions she was ordered to follow by her father or Mossad; _these_ were mostly hers, acting on her own, deciding moment to moment what she believed she had to do. She was grounded enough in reality to know that her actions would appear to be unhinged and contradictory; to an extent, they had been the product of the ... _the instability_ ... that had overtaken her, to seek her victims and make amends. But she had choices when it came to Tali and Tony, made them ... and now she was to live with them. Her heart ached with the results of those decisions as they confronted her in this peaceful, sunny, Parisian park...

"Are you alright?"

She startled to awareness and glanced up sharply from her withdrawn form to see Tony crouched before her, looking up into her face in grim concern. He must have called to her and she had missed it. She glanced past him quickly to see Tali still swinging happily, oblivious to her mother's apparent oblivion and her father's response.

"Of course," Ziva straightened, struggling to hold on to the connection with him, given its tenuousness and her responsibility for it. "I am sorry – I am still a bit tired."

He stood, clearly not convinced. "Did you eat?"

She felt a bit of relief that she could answer. "Yes – I finished the breakfast you had out for me. Thank you. And..." she dared, as he half turned back to watch Tali, "thank you for the note, telling me where you had gone."

He did not reply, didn't even appear to react. _You did this_ , a voice inside her hissed. She almost faltered; she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the wave of tears that wanted to come, and looked for the shreds of training remaining in her to press forward.

"You could have awakened me," she offered, softly.

At that, Tony turned back to look at Ziva, still expressionless to her efforts to read him. After a moment, though, he seemed to waiver, then, eyes back on Tali, he sat on the bench beside her. After another moment, he spoke as he looked out over the park, and back to Tali. "No," he said quietly, shaking his head slowly. "I really couldn't." He paused, then glanced back at her, solemn and quiet, as he seemed to come to some sort of decision. "You're exhausted, Ziva," he urged. "At the very least, you're exhausted, and need sleep. You need food, more than the little bit I left for you. God knows what else you may need to be healthy." He lapsed back into silence.

Ziva had no response. She knew he was right, but knew there was nothing she could say to address his concern that would satisfy him. She had her confirmation: now that he had some time to get used to the fact that she was alive, and _here_ in Paris with the two of them, his walls were firmly in place in a way she had never known from him before – at least not any directed at her. How much was because she had not wanted to talk about the last three years or about her present condition, or how much of it was the fact that she had not told him about his daughter, or even how much might be her "rejoining" Mossad, if he knew about it, she had no idea. However, she _was_ certain that how he'd been with her when she last saw him in Israel, and then when she first arrived at his apartment, compared to this distance and coolness with her, and his reaction of self-protection, meant that her actions had hurt, and that his hitherto unshakable trust in her had now been shaken to the core. She wondered if he could ever trust her again.

So she just nodded, silently, and waited.

But even this new Tony was not comfortable with silence, and after several more long moments of neither speaking, he got up and crossed over to Tali, to pull her swing back again and let it go, much to the child's delight. Then, before Ziva could find more blame to take on herself, he came back to sit beside her again. Still avoiding eye contact with her, Tony spoke once more. "I made some calls while you two were sleeping," he began. "I have a couple contacts at the embassy, and they gave me the name of a clinic and a couple doctors who could see you, just to be sure you're okay. We won't need an appointment – just whenever you're ready to go." He paused, then barely glanced at her as he added, "and we could go pick up your bag at the station, whenever you want. You probably want your things..."

She nodded. "I can get a room, so that I do not disrupt you and Tali any m-"

She heard a small huff of frustration from him before he spoke again, his voice still measured. "There's no need, Ziva. We have plenty of room. Unless you want to."

She wavered, her heart aching terribly at how strained of their once-intimate connection had become. "No," she whispered.

At the sound, Tony turned sharply to look at her, and she was again overcome with shame at her weakness. But his eyes seemed to soften a tiny bit; his resolve wavered for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak; he shut it and frowned; he drew another breath, nodding and relaxing infinitesimally. "Then ... what if we let Tali have her fill of the swings – which I'm guessing will be another five minutes or so – and then we head over to the station and get your things?"

Ziva nodded, relieved to see a bit of hope glimmer through in his reactions and to have a plan that did not require any more confrontations or questions or suspicions. Tony looked back toward his daughter, barely seeing her for the confusion and hurt and concern he felt, finding her mother – _his treasured Ziva_ – so terribly, completely, broken...

TBC...


End file.
